The Avatar Saga: Azula's Redemption
by flamehead23a
Summary: Set 5 years after the series. A new darkness is rising, and the fate of the world rests in the hands of the Gaang, their other-worldly ally the White Phoenix, and a certain deposed Princess...
1. Of Schoolboys and Sunflowers

_The Avatar Saga—Azula's redemption _

_Chapter 1: Of Schoolboys and Sunflowers_

_By Flamehead23a_

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

_O, great Muses, I humbly beseech thee._

_As a mere suppliant I appear._

_Beautiful of speech,_

_Glorious, Amorous,_

_Chanting, Blossoming,_

_and Celestial._

_As an unworthy mortal, thy powers_

_I invoke. _

_For Epics,_

_Histories, Romances,_

_Tragedies, Comedies,_

_and Astronomy._

_Thy skills I require, _

_and with the Shining One's _

_blessings, I will steal them _

_for a time. _

_Here begins Episode 1_

_Ευερυ στορυ μυστ ἁυε α βεγιννινγ. Τἱς στορυ ις νο εξκεπτιον..._

…\/…\/…\/…

"_Oh man, oh man, I'm late. Sifu Honna is gonna roast me_." Kuzane raced up the steps to his school, his heart pounding. The boy had been late twice this week already, and while the Avatar's victory over the Fire Lord five years ago had relaxed the atmosphere in the Fire Nation, children were still expected to appear to school on time. He raced through the halls, his soft leather shoes thumping against the polished wood of the school floor. He knew he was going to need an explanation for his teacher, and quickly crafted a tale that sounded more valid than 'I overslept.'

Turning a corner, he crashed headlong into the music class on their way to the school courtyard to practice. Stammering apologies and extracting himself from a Tsungi Horn and its player, Kuzane narrowly avoided the Music teacher and sped down the hallway. He smiled as he ran, remembering when music was one of the most boring subjects at school; until the Avatar came, that is. He cut through the cafeteria kitchen, pinching breakfast as he went, amid shouts and swinging ladles from the cooks.

"One of these days, Kuzane!" the head chef yelled red in the face. "One of these days, you're going to be just a step too slow!"

Kuzane laughed as he slid on the polished wood between the chef's legs. He popped up behind him, a Fire Cake in each hand. "And one of these days you're finally going to lose that belly of yours."

The chef paused. "You really think so?"

Kuzane face split into a smile, and he crammed one of the Fire Cakes into his mouth. "Sure, as soon as you manage to catch me, big guy."

The chef's yells mingled with the thuds of his feet against the wood floor.

Chest heaving, Kuzane finally cracked the door of his classroom open, hoping to sneak in during the morning recitation of the Fire Nation oath and escape his teacher's notice.

"Kuzane, so glad you could join us. And only one hour late today. I'm thrilled you managed to spare us the time." Sifu Honna's raspy voice made Kuzane flinch. His grizzled teacher had re-arranged the entire room to face the door, so everyone in the class got to see Kuzane's late arrival. Honna had probably did this to teach him a lesson, but for "Kuzane the performer" as his friends called him, he saw this as an opportunity to turn the tables on his teacher.

"Deepest apologies, Sifu Honna." Kuzane said, bowing low. "I really was going to be on time today, but on my way to school I was attacked by, um, a pack of Tigerdillos."

"…Tigerdillos."

"Yeah, I know, it was crazy," Kuzane smiled, picking up steam. "They got me just outside the market square. I tried to use the bending Sifu Wass is teaching us, but they just kept coming. I got one, then another," Kuzane jumped up onto a student's desk, recreating the adventure. "But for every one I torched, two more appeared."

Sure that his audience had eyes only for him, Kuzane ran over the desks, hopping from row to row, bounding and flipping over his classmates. "One of them hit me just as I was jumping from the coal factory roof to the fire flakes stand. I hit the ground with an oomf!" Kuzane tumbled to the ground, right in front of his teacher's desk. The class was cheering, and Honna had just the beginnings of a smile in his eyes, despite his best attempts at severity. "I thought I was gonna die. But then—"

"_Going _to die," Honna corrected. "And then what?"

"And then," Kuzane puffed himself up, deciding his audience was ready for the grand finale. "The White Phoenix saved me."

The class erupted in laughter. Almost imperceptibly Kuzane deflated, looking at his classmates in confusion. He turned to Honna, whose smile had grown. Just as Kuzane was about to question why the class was laughing rather than silenced in awe, his teacher spoke.

"Did he now? I find that most interesting, as the current events I read to the class before your late arrival included a message from the Fire Lord. About how The Senken Seven have once again assembled at the Capital which, if you had been here for the geography test yesterday, would know is in the mainland of our nation, far removed from us." Kuzane looked at the ground, the picture of a shamed and apologetic student. To the other students in the room, it was an obvious act. Kuzane never apologized for anything, and probably didn't expect to get away with such a huge story anyway.

"Now please, pupil Kuzane, recite for the class the date of the formation, function, as well as the names and titles of everyone in the Senken."

"The Senken Seven, formally founded after the Defeat of Ozai the disgraced, were seven of the strongest and most influential people alive after the war, excepting of course the Order of the White Lotus. They represent all the peoples of the world, and work to maintain balance between world powers." Kuzane kept his head bowed as he recited.

"As for the members… well, there's of course Avatar Aang of the Southern Air Temple, The Last Airbender, and co-head of the Council of Seven. Toph Bei Fong of Gaoling, Earth Master and representative of the Earth kingdom. Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, Water Master and representative of the Water Tribes, both North and South. Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe and Suki of Kyoshi Island, Warrior Couple and representatives of the Konketsu Island colonies. Zuko, Fire Master and our Fire Lord, and the other Co-Head of the Council. And finally, there is Matthias Musagetes, the White Phoenix, Advisor to Lord, King, Chief, and Avatar alike."

"Well, there you go, you do seem to listen in class once in a while," Honna said. "Now, why don't you follow that wonderful display of acrobatic and oratory skill by taking your seat and getting out your report on the White Phoenix."

Kuzane paled. He thought the report wasn't going to be due until tomorrow. He thought quickly, making his way not to his seat, but back to the center of the semicircle the desks formed around the front door.

"Actually, Sifu, I was hoping I could orally give my report… You see, I sprained my wrist helping my poor blind mother in the shop and---"

"Oh, save it Kuzane. I knew you weren't going to have your report done." Honna cut him off, hoping to circumvent another lengthy story from the inventive youngster. "I tell you what—if I let you tell part of the Phoenix's story, will you promise to be on time for the rest of the month? No matter how many wrist sprains or Tigerdillos try to keep you from getting here before noon?"

"Yes Sir, I promise."

"Then go ahead. But just a part, mind you. I know all about you out-talking the Deputy Magistrate after your incident with those badgerfrogs."

Laughter filled the room at the elderly teacher's remark, and he marveled at how far the country had come since Lord Zuko's coronation. There were still hiccups to be sure, but the nation was slowly and surely leaving the ridged single-mindedness he secretly hated teaching during the last Fire Lord's rule.

Kuzane eagerly approached the front of the room, feeling immediately at home. The little liar was a born entertainer, and had dreams one day of joining the Ember Island Players, the Fire Lord's personal Theater troupe. He saw any chance to tell a story as a chance to be the center of attention, and loved every minute of it. He reached the center of the semicircle, his stage. He looked over his fellow students, his audience. He even snuck a glance over at Sifu Honna, his critic. Then Kuzane, son of Kuzen and grandson of Kuzo, the Avatar's childhood friend; took a deep breath, readied himself, and began to speak.

"The White Phoenix, Matthias Musagetes, first appeared five and a half years ago to help the Avatar bring balance to the world. Not much is known about his life before that, aside from what he has told the royal scribes and messengers. He doesn't use bending, yet many have seen him perform feats only someone at the rank of master is capable of. He claims no homeland and no ties to any of the nations so he is, along with the Avatar, seen as a completely neutral mediator. He's known all throughout the world as a hero, and is one of the most courageous people alive."

……………………………………………………………………

"Come here, you coward!" Toph Bei Fong shouted after the retreating figure. Squaring her stance, she sent a fist sized rock hurtling at the man's back. "I swear, Bird-Boy—I've never seen a bigger baby in my life!"

The rock sped closer and closer, until just a few inches separated it from the figure's head. Toph's breath caught, sensing that he still hadn't had moved. But at the last moment something at his feet seemed to catch his eye and he ducked to examine it, the rock sailing harmlessly over his head. Toph let out her breath in a relived sigh. Of course he wouldn't get hit. As long as she's known him, he'd never taken a hit unless it was to defend someone else.

"Bandit, you've never seen anything period." The figure turned round and began to walk to the blind Earthbender. "And just because I don't want to attend the policy maker's banquet doesn't make me a coward. If anything it proves I don't want to die a slow, boring death."

"Are they really that bad?"

"One-on-one, I'm sure they're great guys. But together it's nothing but trade agreements and border re-distribution. I don't know how Twinkle-Toes and Sparky stand it."

"Well Zuko's grown up around politics. And Aang's the Avatar, so it's his duty to be bored to tears for the betterment of the world—whether he likes it or not." Toph walked towards the figure, meeting him at the middle of the garden she had found him napping in. The years had been good to her, each passing season maturing her into the picture of natural beauty. She never wore makeup, and still kept her hair in much the same style she did during the war—long bangs reaching past her milky eyes. But five years changes a cute young girl into a much more womanly young adult. "What's that?" she asked, her steps showing her that her friend had something in his hand.

"Just a flower that caught my eye. Here, you should stick it in your hair. Now the delegates can tell you're a girl."

Toph took the flower with a grin, recognizing the jab for what it was—the same kind of banter that kept them going during some of the worst fights of her life. "Whatever, you know I can sense them all staring at my chest during these things. They never seem to remember that just because I'm blind doesn't mean I can't tell where they're looking."

The young man bent over to help place the flower behind her ear, his hands radiating the internal heat he always had. Toph almost leaned her head into those hands, but kept her feet firmly planted. "Well you can't blame them, it's not their fault you insist on wearing dudes clothes that aren't cut for women. Seriously, it was fine when you were twelve and flat, but now with those boulders of yours—"

"All right, that's officially more than you need to say, pal." Toph pushed him away playfully. "And Sunshine's gonna kill you for taking this, by the way. This is her private garden."

"Don't worry about it, I've got Mai covered. I brought a bunch of snow-lilies from the north with me, so she can't complain if I pinch one sunflower."

"Well it's your butt on the line, Mat. Don't blame me when she sticks it full of needles."

They both laughed, the image of a stone-faced Mai coming at him with her trade-mark Stilettos too much. The young man put his arm over Toph's shoulder and led her out of the garden and towards the banquet hall. "Come on—let's get this over with so we can all finally start our vacation."

Toph allowed him to steer her, but not without bending the hole in the ground away. She didn't feel like getting on the lady of the house's bad side so early into their holiday. "Lead the way, oh mighty and powerful Phoenix."

Their laughter floated away in the late spring air.

…\/…\/…\/…

And it begins… AGAIN! I wanna thank everyone who reads, and even more to the people who review! Since I've got a pretty good buffer going, I'm gonna offer this deal: IF I GET 10 QUALITY, MULTI-SENTENCE REVIEWS, I'LL POST THE NEXT CHAPTER IMMEDIATELY, INSTEAD OF WAITING A WEEK.

And just to throw it out there… **I'm still looking for beta readers! If you're out of High-school and can write a quality sentence, please contact me!**


	2. Of Alcoves and Appearances

_The Avatar Saga—Azula's Redemption_

_Chapter 2: of Alcoves and Appearances_

_By Flamehead23a_

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

"I can't do this anymore. It's all… it's all too much. I'm done."

"_Maximos, when you leave they will scatter again. All that has been gained will be lost."_

"I want a real life, not this rootless drifting you pushed on me."

"_Then you know what must be done. The Source must always have a master."_

"You know, sometimes I wonder who mastered whom... I'll let them know."

….\/….\/….\/….

"Do you think she found him?" Katara carried a twinge of worry in her voice. She sat near the head of the long ash wood banquet table, situated in the vaulted main dining hall of the Fire Nation Palace. A cavernous room, it was adorned with the typical Fire Nation regalia, something that would have stirred fear within her five years ago. Now however, Water tribe banners and Earth Kingdom pennants hung alongside the reds and oranges of the Fire Nation flags.

"He's expected to give a demonstration tonight. You know how angry these magistrates get if they don't have anything to watch." She wore a formal Water-tribe outfit—a floor-length pale blue dress beneath a heaver blue robe, all trimmed with white fur and held together with a sparkling sapphire situated between her breasts. Her beauty had only grown since the fall of Ozai, and if it wasn't for Aang she would probably have had suitors lining up for miles. She wore her hair as she always did while in the Fire Nation; down in the back with two long braids framing her face.

Everyone had assembled for the last dinner of the World Policy Summit, a month long marathon of paperwork and political meetings between foreign leaders and the Senken Seven that had occurred every spring and fall for the past 3 years. It was designed to give the world's bureaucrats only two months out of the year to pester the Avatar and other members of the Senken about international affairs. Before Sokka thought of it Aang and Zuko were hounded constantly, having to attend meetings almost year round.

"Don't worry," Aang smiled reassuringly as he took hold of her hand. "Toph can sense everyone from here to Ember Island. She'll find him. I'd worry more about what she does when she catches him," He grinned, "she knows she might have to show off her metal bending if he isn't here to provide the entertainment."

Katara smiled, placing her other hand on top of Aangs. He'd grown by leaps and bounds, and now towered over everyone, Zuko and Sokka included. Years of training had sculpted his child's body into a wiry, athletic physique. He wasn't as muscular as the other boys were, but his height and lean build still gave him the advantage in their sparring matches. (Being the Avatar helped too.)He was dressed in an Air master's robes, with a necklace much like one Monk Gyatso wore—a present from Zuko during his coronation as Fire Lord. The two young men shared the head of the table, symbolizing their equal status in the Senken. Aang's air staff rested against the back of his chair, where Momo was currently hording all fruit he could grab from the table.

"Besides, it's the last night of the summit. Who cares if a couple of ink-and-paper lovers go home angry?" Zuko added. He was garbed in robes beneath the royal double-mantle, with an additional three mantles atop that to signify his position as Fire Lord. What was different, however were the colors. Zuko had done away with the blood-red and blacks of his ancestor's regime—in their place were crimsons and ambers, yellows and whites—colors of dawn, rather than dusk. The only link to his ancestor's past he kept was his maternal great-grandfather's hairpiece, Roku's hairpiece, which at the moment was keeping his long hair in a formal topknot.

He had grown too over the years, and now stood almost as tall as Aang. His face now sported a beard in the style of his uncle, something that irked Mai to no end. She just happened to be seated next to him and opposite Katara, and took his comment as an opportunity to reach up and tug his beard.

"I care. As the hostess it's my job to make sure all my guests are content…. And complaining bureaucrats annoy me." Mai stood up, smoothing out her regal robes. They were colored to match Zuko's, minus the mantles as she was not technically a member of the royal family. "I'm going to check on the cooks—the main course should be out by now. Coming, your highness?"

"Yes, dear." Zuko got up, and shooting a glance at a snickering Sokka and Aang, followed his girlfriend to the kitchens.

"Ha! Now _that_ is one whipped Fire Lord!" Sokka laughed. Built like his father—he carried himself much more like a warrior now, having completed his training with Master Piandao. He was a fully fledged Sword Master with a new sword and boomerang; forged out of the same meteorite his first one was made from. He had done a little growing over the years but like Zuko now stood beneath Aang, something he took a while to get used too. "I wonder which one of them is in charge after all the guests go home? Ya Knowhuddimean? I bet he sta—ouch! Suki!"

"Now Sokka—that is _not_ proper dinner conversation." Suki admonished. She wore her Kyoshi Warrior outfit, as well as the traditional headgear and face paint. She had matured along with the other girls, and could turn just as many heads if she was so inclined. "And besides," She grinned at her long-time boyfriend, "you know you'll do whatever I ask if it means staying on my good side."

"Hrmph, a real man is an Island." Sokka crossed his arms. "He needs only sustenance, not human companionship."

"Oh really? Well, that's a shame. I was looking forward to some 'companionship' later tonight." Suki let out a wistful sigh. "But if you're too busy being an island, I guess I'll have to find a man more… accommodating."

"WHAT?! Come on, Suki! You know I was kidding, don't you? Only chumps are Islands, I'm more like uh, a village. Yeah, I'm only around because of companionship! That's it! No companionship and I wither up and die!"

"So what?" Suki cocked her head in mock severity. "You're saying that my 'companionship' is the only reason you stick around?"

"Yes! Wait, I mean No! I mean, uh, oh, aw—you know what I mean. C'mere!"

Suki shrieked as Sokka covered her mouth with his. "MMmff! Sokka! You'll smudge my makeup! Stoppit—Mmf!"

Aang and Katara laughed at their friend's antics, glancing at each other and sharing a knowing look. Together they leaned back, held hands, and enjoyed the beginning of a long, well-deserved break.

………………………………………………………………………

"Mai, where are we going? The kitchens are that way." Zuko followed his girlfriend down a quiet hallway in his palace. She turned suddenly into a darkened alcove. Zuko, not knowing just what his Mai was up to, followed—only to be pulled into a searing kiss.

It took him a second to get his bearings, but once he realized what was happening Zuko entered into the kiss as much as Mai did. It was a kiss of unbridled passion and need, a feverish kiss rarely shared outside of Fire Nation couples. Their hands danced over each other's backs, and moans could have easily been heard by anyone walking down the adjacent hallway. Eventually, just like any fire, the need for oxygen soon became a factor, and both lovers disengaged for some much needed breathing time.

"Did you honestly think I wanted to check on _dinner_? You know me better than that." Mai wrapped her arms around Zuko's neck and nibbled his ear. "Besides," She purred, "political summits are _so_ _boring_."

Zuko grinned at his lover. Mai never ceased to surprise him. She was the picture of a Fire Lady in public, saying all the right things at all the right times, often making up for Zuko's distressing lack of edict—the product of spending his teenage years hunting the Avatar. In private however, she was as every Fire Nation woman should be—fiery, passionate, and just as aggressive as the man when it came to romance."Have I mentioned how much I like it when you get bored?" He leaned in for another kiss.

"And have I mentioned how much I wish people would remember I don't have to see you to know when you're going at it like two pygmy pumas in heat?"

Toph and Mat stood at the head of the alcove, grinning from ear to ear. Zuko and Mai quickly disengaged and tried mightily to act uninterested with their being discovered, an act only slightly marred by the slight blushes coloring their skin.

"We were just… coming to look for you two." Zuko quickly supplied.

"Last time I checked," Mat chuckled, "Toph and I didn't make a habit of finding dark, abandoned alcoves to whisper sweet-nothings to each other. Maybe we should though—that looked like fun. Toph…?"

"Don't even think about it, Bird-boy. I'd rather spend an evening in a wooden box beneath Lake Laogai."

"Toph," Mai asked with a dangerously innocent tone, "is that one of my Sunflowers? Have you been in my Garden?"

Toph paled and made a hasty retreat towards the banquet hall. "It wasn't me, Mat took it. He said something about Snow Lilies and promised you wouldn't get mad. Mat, you said she wouldn't get mad!"

"Sorry Toph, my bad." Mat called after the retreating Earthbender. Mai just gave him one of her famous glares as she followed Toph back to the hall.

"You really know how to interrupt a good time, don't you?" Zuko said, punching Mat softy on the shoulder.

"Hey, if I remember correctly, it was you who stumbled in on me and that cute Waterbender last winter," Mat countered as the two walked towards the feast, "stinking to the Spirit World of Ice wine and singing 'Girls from Ba Sing Se' at the top of your lungs."

"I told you Mat, _I don't even remember that_." The two laughed at the fond memory as they neared the threshold of the banquet hall. The sounds and sweet aromas drifting from within told them the main course had been served, and that the hall was primed and ready for entertainment. "You ready to put on a show, Phoenix?" Zuko asked, using the honorific that made the transition from curse to praise in record time, thanks to the quick change in the title's owner.

"Only if you're ready to Introduce me, friend." The Phoenix replied.

………………………………………………………………………

"Finally!" Katara smiled as Toph sprawled into the chair next to her. Grabbing the nearest Jang Hui river clam, Toph cracked it open and sucked the meat out loudly. "Did you manage to find him?"

"Stop stressing, Sugar Queen. I found him In Mai's garden napping. He's outside with Zuko putting the final touches on his show." Toph picked her teeth and belched, throwing the clam-shell over her shoulder, where it was quickly picked up by Momo.

"He was in the garden? What was he doing there?" Suki asked as she fed Sokka a piece of meat from her plate.

"Heck if I know Face-Paint, probably looking at Mai's flowers. Why do you seeing people do that, by the way? What's the point of a bunch of stupid plants?"

"Ahem," Mai sniffed and cleared her throat. "One of those stupid plants is in your hair, Toph. _Against my rules_, I might add."

Toph winced. "Yes ma'am, very sorry, ma'am. I'm sure it's a very pretty flower, your Fire Ladyship."

The group laughed, and Mai permitted one of her small smiles. Her old friends were never, this easy to get along with. Ty Lee was always going on about auras and other such nonsense, and Azula…

"She's not the Fire Lady yet, Toph." Sokka pointed out. "Which is pretty odd, considering. Why hasn't Zuko made it official yet? You guys are basically married anyway."

"Oh… the proper age for marriage in the Fire Nation is twenty-five. As the Fire Lord, he's expected to adhere to all of our Nation's customs." Mai answered, a small blush tinting her cheeks. "Besides, he has his pick of all the girls in the Fire Nation… I'm sure there are many with higher status than me that would make a better wife."

"Mai, that's not true at all! Zuko loves you!" Suki spoke up. She shot Sokka a glare and elbowed his side. "Way to go—what made you think it was alright to ask such a personal question!"

"Honestly Sokka, all that Blubber-Seal jerky you've been sneaking at night must have fattened your head." Katara added, kicking her brother under the table.

"Seriously Snoozles—I may be blind, but even I have tact!" Toph joined in the attack by flicking lychee nut shells at his nose.

"Ahh, Three-on-one! No fair!" Sokka exclaimed.

"Mai, you're right that Zuko could have any girl in the country as the Fire Lord," Aang, met Mai's eyes and extended a comforting hand to her. "But the fact of the matter is that he doesn't _want_ any other girl. You're the only one for him, trust me. Getting back to see you was all he talked about when we had to go on that diplomatic tour of the Northern Water Tribe."

"Really?"

"Well, you and the fact that it was so cold. But mostly you." Aang grinned.

"Thanks Aang. Everyone." Mai resumed her soft smile. "Even you Sokka. Which reminds me, when are Water Tribe men supposed to marry?"

"Oh, the standard age is 20, but…" Sokka blushed, bringing everyone a good laugh.

"Attention! Attention!" Li and her sister Lo had appeared near the grand entrance. It was a perennial mystery how the two were still able to project their voices at such a great age, but they retained their position within the Fire Lord's retinue all the same. "Hear the words of your Fire Lord, your gracious host. Hear and obey!"

The doors opened and Zuko walked in, looking slightly embarrassed at the introduction. "Sorry—I haven't quite gotten them used to the fact that I'm not my father yet." Laughter resounded through the hall.

"I'm pleased you all are enjoying yourselves, and want to congratulate all of you on a month well spent. We are now one step closer to healing the scar left after three generations of war. Much has been accomplished in the past five years, and while we can all take pride in our achievements we should remain aware that there is still a long road left ahead of us. This past month has given way to the finalization of a crucial trade agreement between Ba Sing Se and the Fire Nation Capital. Now, like before, ships will travel from the harbor of Full Moon bay to the great gates of Azulon unhindered. The seas are safe to travel once again."

Applause and cheers sounded through the hall. This agreement was hailed as a major step towards healing the wounded relations between the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom, left bitter enemies after the war. "We have also officially ratified the Konketsu Island Colonies as neutral zones. These islands will house citizens from all lands and walks of life, and will be the symbol of cooperation for generations to come."

More applause, louder than before. The Konketsu Islands were the brainchild of Suki and Sokka, and were meant to be fair and even ground for everyone who set foot on them. No man will outrank or outclass another based on their birthplace, and taxes collected on the islands would be evenly distributed to some of the hardest hit villages visited by Aang and his friends during the war.

"Congratulations, we have made the world a little better this month, and will continue to do so until every trace of My Great-Grandfather's barbaric war has been replaced with peace and prosperity the world over!" The assembled policymakers erupted, a month's worth of stress and hard work being released almost all at once. Soon, resounding chants of "Senken, Senken!" and "Zuko, Zuko!" reverberated and mingled together up through the vaulted ceilings, muffled only slightly by the multicolored banners hung throughout the room.

"He sure has become a great public speaker," Aang remarked to Katara over the din. "I don't think I could make speech after speech to so many people and keep them chanting like he can."

Katara leaned in and kissed her Avatar, her strong and powerful bender. "But you're better at the mediating and smaller discussions. That's what makes the two of you such a good team—Zuko instills them with passion, and you get them to cooperate and work together—two things I think go against any government official's instincts."

She moved in for a deeper kiss. "Besides," Katara whispered, "There's only one person you have to keep chanting, and you manage that just fine."

"Hey! No tongue where I can see it! You guys promised!" Sokka shouted over the chants.

They pretended they couldn't hear him.

"And now for your entertainment, we have a very special show tonight. He is a man many have heard of, but few have actually met. Like his namesake he comes and goes with the wind and rises from ashes when needed most. He has won back his good name after my father used his title as a means of fear and subjection. He is one of two people alive who has faced my sister in single combat and lived to tell the tale."

"Three people, Zuko!" Aang called from the head of the table. "I fought her too, remember!"

Zuko smiled at his friend's interjection. "Yes, I suppose you're right. One of three then—which is still fairly impressive given my sister's reputation. So without any further ado I present Matthias Musagetes, who will be exhibiting and explaining his unique powers to you all tonight. I give you… The White Phoenix!" Zuko took his seat amid the polite applause, and waited along with the others as candles were doused and lights were focused on the main doorway, the center stage.

All eyes fell to the doors of the grand hall, where in the dim light of a darkened hallway, the Phoenix approached.

….\/….\/….\/….

Awright, chapter 2! For those interested in how characters look during this episode, here is a pic I used for inspiration while writing the summit scene. The only deviations from this are ones I wrote in-story, such as the colors of the Zuko and Mai's outfits, and Mai's lack of Royal Mantle. (All pictures are owned by the people who made them, I take no credit here.) h++.com/art/Older-Gaang-formal-outfits-104442263 (Take out those pluses and replace them with t's for the link to work.) I've got a pic of Mat currently in the tubes, and I'll post a link to that once it's finished. If you're sooo impatient, check my DA page for pics of Mat before this story began.

Thanks for reading, and I'll see you next week. (Or sooner, if I get 10 reviews!)


	3. Of Darings and Darkness

_The Avatar Saga—Azula's Redemption_

_Chapter 3: of Daring's and Darkness_

_By Flamehead23a_

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

"The deal was that we would wait until he turned eighteen. We'd tell him at fifteen and help prepare him for the work."  
"I'm sorry, the Old Mans' already been told. He's expecting a replacement come morning—not me."  
"Max, please. He's just turned thirteen—he hasn't even had a childhood yet!"  
"It's out of my hands now. Have him ready by dawn. The Old Man always starts things with a sunrise."

...\/...\/...\/...

"…The White Phoenix!" Zuko's introduction filtered back to Mat as he walked towards the entryway.

_"Ahh… man, Mai is right. __These summits are really, really boring."_

It was a curious man that walked through the tall double-doors and into the cavernous main hall. Curious in that he was at the same time both unusual, and unremarkable. The first thing one noticed upon seeing him was the color of his hair and eyes—red and green respectively. His skin was pale and freckled, with a clear complexion and no apparent scars. He normally stood taller than everyone in the Senken save Aang, but at the moment was slouched to the point where his height became indiscernible. He was built, but not spectacularly so, and his current melancholy didn't work to highlight his gymnast's physique.

He wore what he always did when visiting here—a black undershirt beneath a sleeveless white haori, trimmed in lined with red. His pants were white as well, also trimmed red. Red bands rested on his forearms—to keep sweat off his hands, he would say. Completing the outfit was a black sash around his waist, cinching his haori almost closed. Tied at the side of the hip, the sash was plain black silk save for a stylized golden sun emblazoned at its end—inside that, the Phoenix's symbol was stitched.

Normally the combination of red hair, green eyes and white clothes would have stood out quite a bit, but with Matthias it was not so. At the moment, everything about him seemed faded, dull. As he gazed out to the audience, it was blatantly clear from the circles beneath his eyes that he hadn't been sleeping well. Nothing about him spoke of nor contributed towards his famed reputation. In fact, if he had not been introduced with such fanfare it was highly probable that Mat would have been able to sit and eat an entire meal without anyone speaking to him; such was his current unobtrusiveness.

Murmurs of confusion began stirring among the crowd. Mat remained still, his hands in his pockets and his apparent disinterest in the entire affair evident. "You don't think… " Suki's voice held disbelief. "He's had a week to plan this thing. I mean I know he's been a little distant lately but…"

"This is Mat we're talking about here." Zuko said. "He might be a little lazy, but I'm sure he's got something planned."

"Well, thanks for, uh… All the hard work you've done… I, ah… Well, unfortunately, I don't really have anything planned." Mat's voice cut through the crowd.

"Oi…" Sokka slapped his forehead as politicians began voicing their discontent.

"Didn't I tell you I found him asleep, Snoozles?" Toph laughed over the complaints. "I can't believe you're all surprised."

"Mat, do this!" Trying to catch Mat's attention, Aang conjured up his air marbles and jumped up onto his chair, waving his hands around. "Seriously, it works every time! Just show them this!"

"Aang, will you sit down! Besides, you're the only Airbender, remember? I'm pretty sure air marbles are a little beyond everyone else." Katara pulled her boyfriend back into his chair. "And sorry to tell you, but that has got to be the most useless trick in the world."

"Now, now," Mat waved his hands for quiet, managing to lower the volume in the room from an angry roar to discontented grumbles. "You all were told you were gonna get a demonstration of my powers, and it's only fair that I make well on that promise. But before I do, I have to explain a little science first."

Mat paced the stage while adopting a professor's tone. "Now, every object in the universe is made up of other, smaller objects. A castle is made up of smaller bricks, bricks are made up of mortar and shale—the list goes on."

"Even the air we breathe is actually made up of smaller things—bits of dust, tiny particles and different mixtures of gass." The audience was losing patience—mutters stirred again. Ignoring them, Mat pressed forward. "Everything you can taste, touch, see, smell or hear is made up of the tiniest of particles, called molecules. Most of my powers center around is the agitation of these molecules to produce heat and ener—"

"We didn't come here for a lecture!" A voice rose over the crowd. Admiral Chan, commander of the Fire Navy's Eastern Fleet, rose from the table. He was a severe looking man, bearded and fearsome, and he looked condescendingly up at the stage. "We were told we would be treated to a show by the mighty White Phoenix, not bored to death with dull scientific drivel from some layabout the age of my son."

Zuko made to rise from his chair but Aang stayed his hand. "Let's see what Mat does," Aang smiled. "I've got a feeling he was counting on something like this happening."

"Deepest apologies, East Admiral." Mat bowed low, only the faintest trace of sarcasm escaping his voice. "It's just that most of my powers require another person to actually demonstrate. I can't really show what I can do unless I'm attacked."

"Well," Chan swayed in place, his over-indulgence of Fire Wine dreadfully clear, "If it's a threat to your person that's needed, then you are in luck. My son has just placed first in the national Agni Kai tournament, and would be more than happy to aid in your 'demonstration.' Chan! Get up there, now!"

"I warn you, Admiral. Keep a reign on your son." Zuko spoke from his seat. "His Agni Kai's carry a reputation, and I won't have any members of this summit indirectly hurt by excessive attacks. No bending, whatsoever. Is that clear?"

Chan rose from the table and strode to the front of the hall, where Mat was waiting with a small smile. "Not to worry Fire Lord, I will restrain myself. It's not in me to ruin such a treasured figure like the Fire Bird."

As he reached the stage, the difference between the two fighters was clear. Chan was a young man in his prime, taller and more heavily built than Matthias. The muscles in his arms bulged as he cracked his knuckles, his look bloodthirsty. It was obvious how Chan defeated his opponents—with overwhelmingly brute force.

Sokka whistled. "Looks like he's got four inches and at least forty pounds on Mat."

"You don't think Chan could beat him, do you?" Mai asked.

"Oh, no way—it's just going be really funny watching this guy get his butt handed to him."

"Are you sure you're ready for me, Phoenix?" Chan smirked, taking his stance. "I haven't lost a duel in ten years."

"Oh, I'm not too worried." Mat gave a half-grin, "Tell you what, Channy—if you can manage to lay a hand on me, I'll give you my title."

With a roar, Chan charged. He threw his whole weight behind a punch, and seemed primed to hit Mat square in the face. Mat hadn't assumed a stance or even brought his hands out of his pockets before Chan's fist had closed the distance and was mere inches away from his nose. But, just when everyone expected to hear the crunch of fist-on-face, Mat pivoted slightly to the left and allowed his opponent to sail harmlessly by.

"If you don't mind," Mat called to Chan without even turning to face him, "I'm just gonna continue with the lecture. Feel free to keep coming at me though—at least it gives the crowd something to watch."

Chan advanced, faster this time. Furious, he threw a flurry of punches and kicks aimed at every part of Mat's body. Sweeps and thrusts, chops and slices all came at Matthias with blazing speed. But through it all, Mat barely moved from his place at center stage. Shifting his body only slightly, he continued to keep his opponent from even touching him.

"Now," Mat resumed his speech in the same disinterested tone he was using earlier. "Like I was about to say before Admiral Fire-Wine over there set his son loose on me—my powers revolve around heat. It's not bending, as many here who have seen me fight are first inclined to believe. I'm able to create, alter, and absorb forms of heat through sheer force of will. It's an offshoot of a discipline I learned known as Psychokinesis—I call it Pyrokinesis"

"Rrraaghh!" Chan jumped into the air and sent a flying crescent-kick straight down at Mat's head. Mat cocked his head to one side and let his shoulder fall, effectively dodging the kick without moving at all. He turned to face his opponent just as Chan was twirling himself off the ground and advancing again.

Backwards, circles, sidesteps—using his own opponents movements, Mat worked Chan back towards the wall without touching him.

"You're all probably wondering how I'm dodging all of Chan-Junior's punches here. Everything a person does—every step they take or punch they throw—must be thought of beforehand. An electric signal, a little spark of lightning, is sent from Junior's brain to his hand before he punches."

Mat grinned as he ducked beneath another jab. "The thing is, I can feel the heat that electrical signal makes. I see it, and can thus react to the punch before it happens. So poor Channy here has a better chance of stealing a Saber-Toothed Moose-Lion cub from its mother than he does laying a hand on me."

With a scream, Chan sent a spinning kick meant to catch the Phoenix in his side. Mat simply shifted his weight back and the foot sailed harmlessly by until it connected with the wall Chan had been backed up against, without even knowing it. The heel of his boot met the wood of the wall and with a crunch—his foot was stuck ankle-deep in the side of the room.

Mat turned his back and made his way to his seat. "Of course having fighting experience helps too—like I'm reasonably sure without needing to feel the rising heat behind me that Channy is going to break the Fire Lord's no bending rule right about…"

With a vicious thrust and a livid shout, Chan freed his foot from the wall and threw it forward, sending a stream of flame right at Mat's back—and the unprepared guests at the table.

"Which brings me to another part of my powers that I spoke of before—heat absorption." Spinning around, Mat placed his arms in front of him and concentrated. As the jet of flame raced closer it contorted, narrowing and finding itself channeled into his palms. Mat was absorbing the blaze directly into his body.

"See?" Toph grinned at an amazed Deputy Governor sitting next to her. "Fire-Snatcher."

Enraged, Chan sent wave after wave of fire straight at the crowd. Blasts and whips of flame flew at a feverish pace. Again and again the crowd flinched, expecting each torrent of flame to be the last thing they saw. But every degree of heat, every ember created, was caught and absorbed by the White Phoenix.

After several minutes of continuous bending the strain finally proved to be too much. With one last shout of rage Chan fell to his knees, exhausted. Mat put his hands back in his pockets, hiding the flash burns that came from quickly absorbing flames without the proper preparation. Toph thought back to when he first explained his powers to her.

"I'm not fire-proof, Bandit." He had said, using his nickname for her. "I'm _fire-resistant_. Skin wasn't built to absorb fire, so I gotta convince myself it's completely one hundred percent possible to pass flames through my hands before I can start the process. It's a mind over matter thing—if I will it enough, it happens. But it's not easy to just do it on the fly."

Slowly, he turned back to the audience. Before them was the Phoenix they had heard about, the Phoenix that stood with the Avatar and Fire Lord against scores of soldiers. Terrible and fearsome, his hair was the blazing red of a volcano's center. His eyes were a vibrant green, the color of emerald lightning. When he opened his mouth to speak, his breath came out in a jet of steam. "And that concludes my exhibition. I hope you all enjoyed it, and learned something tonight—namely, to never trade blows with a Phoenix."

The crowd erupted in applause. They were no strangers to the art of Firebending—many had been on the giving or receiving ends of attacks just like the ones Chan had sent at Mat. However, those attacks had always been deflected or dodged, never absorbed. There was no doubt in their minds that if Matthias Musagetes could absorb fire, he could send it back just as easily. He looked over to his friends and smiled. Soon he was laughing, the natural high of combat and showmanship finally bubbling through whatever stress had been plaguing him.

Chan's eyes rose, and through the applauding masses, found his father. The old admiral met his look with clear eyes and a sobered expression. After holding Chan's gaze for a long moment, the admiral turned from his disgraced offspring and joined in the applause.

He could contain his rage no longer. From his knees, Chan reached for a wickedly curved knife strapped to his shin. With all the wrath he could bring to bear, he hurled the blade at Mat's back.

"Absorb this!" He shouted through the applause.

Toph felt what was happening. She "saw" the knife leave Chan's hand, but she couldn't see it while it was in the air, and she didn't have time to form a solid stance and raise a wall of earth between Mat and the spinning blade. Worse, if Mat dodged, it would likely connect with one of the politicians applauding him at the table.

"And In five years," she remembered, "he's never taken a hit unless it was to defend someone else."

Toph felt the pulses around her quicken. They saw the knife—they could do something. They could save him. "Quick! Stop it!" She cried, her voice shrill.

The sound of the blade hitting home silenced the room in the space of half a heartbeat. Toph paled and turned back to Mat, expecting to feel him fall at any moment. Katara took her hand. "Relax Toph," She whispered to her terrified friend. "He winked."

"Well," Mat smiled, facing a now terrified crowd. "I wasn't expecting to have to show off this little trick tonight." As he turned to Chan, the crowd gasped. For all intents and purposes, the knife appeared embedded in his back—sunk at least halfway in. "You're a pretty crafty sonuvabitch, you know that?"

"Ha…hah…How?" Chan was breathing heavily, the ire in his eyes replaced with disbelief. "You didn't dodge the blade… I saw it sink in. HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?"

"All in good time, Junior. All in good time. For now though," Mat cracked his knuckles, "why don't we situate you so you can't endanger any more of the Fire Lord's guests, hmm?" Mat swept his thumbs across his fingertips, producing four snaps with each hand in rapid succession. Sparks flew from his fingertips and out of nothingness, small flames caught above his thumbs. Opening his hands, the flames moved to his palms and enlarged to fit neatly inside them.

"What you're seeing here isn't totally fire." Keeping his palms flat, Mat rotated his hands in small circles, forming flattened disks out of the flames.

"It's a sort of plasma/fire mix, pulled into this plane with help of another skill I've been taught—Metacreativity." With flicks of his wrists, he sent the constructs spinning at Chan.

The Admiral's son crossed his arms over his face, his intent to block the blasts, but was taken off guard as the disks connected with his wrists. Instead of dissipating, the fire seemed to encircle his wrists and continue traveling backwards towards the wall, taking him with them. The fire cuffs embedded themselves into the wall, shortly followed by two more cuffs for his feet—pinning Chan against the far side of the hall with his limbs spread.

"Sokka," Mat turned to address the audience with the knife still in his back. "Be a dear and tell everyone about that theory we were working on concerning the solidity of air."

"First of all, I'm not your dear." Sokka grinned. "And second, I discovered a while back that heated air lightens and expands—which is how we get War-balloons and Airships to fly. After you told me about molecules and how when they're heated they move faster and farther apart, I got to thinking… If you had air in a contained area and kept pumping in heat, would the molecules eventually move fast enough that they actually seemed to be closer together rather than farther apart? Could extremely hot air slow down another object, because the air was moving around so fast the molecules bounced into the other object more than they would at room temperature?"

"As many of you know," Mat took up the thread now. "Sword Master Sokka is also a mechanical and conceptual genius. When he isn't cracking bad jokes, that is." Mat shot a smirk back to his Water Tribe friend who half-heartedly made a retort under his breath, saying something that made those in earshot roll their eyes.

"I'd been thinking along those lines for a while, but never had the brains to get the measurements right. But thanks to Sword Master Sokka…" Mat reached behind him and withdrew the blade from his back. "It works like a charm."

The first three inches of the knife, the part that had appeared embedded into his back, had been melted into twisted, gleaming metal. "Obviously, the air within the 'heat shield' is pretty hot. Sorry Chan," Mat called over his shoulder, "I don't think you'll be stabbing at anyone till you get a new dagger."

Mat approached Admiral Chan and dropped the remains of the blade at his feet. "Your son lost the minute he attacked with anger." He said quietly, "Admiral, you have the chance here to fix some serious psychological damage. Please, take your son and—"

"That is no son of mine!" The Admiral spoke loud enough for his son against the far wall to hear. "I disown him! Never again will his dishonor stain my own." Chan turned to Zuko, his face stony. "I apologize for my disruption Fire Lord, and will return back to my post in the Colonies at first light tomorrow. I bid you good night." Bowing, the Admiral left.

"Escort Chan to his father's ship," Zuko stood, signaling the close of the night's festivities. He motioned several guards to the disgraced fighter. "Instruct the Admiral after he has had time to cool off that he should reconsider his decision. I've seen nothing but pain come from disownments such as this and wouldn't wish it on anyone, especially not a family of the Fire Nation. Mat, would you…?"

"Oh, yeah, heh… sorry." Mat lifted his hand and absorbed the fire cuffs back into his body, leaving Chan to fall on his knees for the second time that night. His eyes never left Mat's back, even as the guards brought him roughly to his feet and led him out a side exit.

"Thank you, everyone. I wish you safe travels back to your homes. Let the spirits and Avatar guide us." Zuko resumed speaking to the crowd. "We officially declare the Fifth World Policy Summit adjourned." Zuko and Aang chorused in unison. They bowed formally to the assembled audience, who bowed back and begin to filter out—to their apartments for the night, and their homelands in the morning.

................................

"I gotta say Mat—that was one of the best shows I've seen you do. Like, ever." Sokka was laying his head in Suki's lap, snacking on Blubber Seal jerky. "I've gotta admit, I thought for a second there he had you. Not because he was that good, but because it looked like you had let him get a little too close."

The Senken had retired to the royal living chamber, a much more intimate room adorned with rugs and pillows, furnished simply with a single low table to kneel at. Aang was sitting back-to-back with Katara, feeding nuts and berries to the ever-hungry Momo. Katara was combing her hair while watching Toph and Mai play Pai Sho. The table was specially made—hewn from stone so Toph could feel the different pieces. Zuko busied himself fixing tea while Mat was huddled against the fireplace—wrapped in a heavy blanket and periodically scooping flames into his palms.

"Well, it wouldn't be very entertaining if I didn't add a little suspense, would it?" Mat smiled when a stray lychee nut bounced to his feet. He palmed and roasted the nut before holding it out for Momo. The winged lemur purred as he was scratched beneath the neck and gave a chatter of appreciation before zipping back to Aang.

"True, true," Sokka continued. "And when you said, 'Namely, never to trade blows with the Phoenix'? Ha! Classic."

"Yes dear, we were all there, we all saw it." Suki pulled her fingers through Sokka's hair. "What I'm impressed with is how you two managed to hide that 'Heat Shield' technique from the rest of us. I thought I knew everything you were working on..."

"Ahh, Suki, my sweet, I'm like an Iceberg—only a tenth of my genius is viewable. Everything else is hidden beneath the ice-cold arctic depths."

"Unfortunately, Sokka hides it so well sometimes he can't find it." Katara quipped.

"We kept it secret because it's not really ready yet." Mat shivered, pulling the blankets tighter around him. "It takes a lot of energy to heat air to that level, and even more to keep it contained so close to my body." Mat drew more tongues of flame into his palms, reducing the fire to softly glowing coals. "All I know is I'm lucky Chan decided to bend his little heart out before he threw that knife."

"And you're even luckier he didn't have a second." Aang added.

"I still can't believe you all didn't tell me he had it under control." Toph said, laying another piece on the board. "I nearly had a heart attack when I thought the knife connected."

"We just wanted to see how you would react." Mai laid a piece of her own. "I think it's cute you worry about him."

"Hey, I could care less about Bird-Boy." Toph's long bangs hid the blush that tinged her cheeks. "I just didn't want a bunch of politicians stampeding because of a dead body. It'd have ruined my dinner."

"Wow Bandit. It's such a comfort to know I rank lower on your appreciation scale than clams."

"What can I say? They probably taste better."

"Really? Wanna go to my room and check? I could light some mood candles and everything."

"In your dreams, Poultry."

"Ohh," Suki said. "And this round goes to the Earthbender."

The group chuckled. Conversations such as this were common whenever Mat came to visit. Between Toph's acerbic wit and Mat's unabashed ego rested an endless cycle of insults and off-color insinuations—almost every encounter ending with Mat being launched into the air via pillar of earth.

"Its people like Chan and his father that keep me tied up in the Capital." Zuko moved about the room serving tea. "As long as firebenders continue using anger as the source of their inner fire, the nation will never fully be at peace." He collapsed at the Pai Sho table and leaned against Mai, pecking her on the cheek.

"You're getting through to them. Lessons given by you and the Avatar are the most attended in the city," Mai said, giving his beard an affectionate tug. "You can't expect to change the country overnight, Zuko."

"She's right." Katara said. "Change comes slow—I still get looks from some of the more stuffy tribesmen when I go north to give lessons."

"I know that. But I thought that after five years I'd have made more progress. At this rate, I'll never be able to really settle down, or—"

"Go looking for your mom?" Mat said quietly from the fire. All activity in the room seemed to pause. Zuko's mother was a touchy subject—the last time it was brought up, the palace maintenance had a whole wing to repair and Sokka had a heavily singed eyebrow to re-grow.

"Yeah… go looking for Mother." Zuko looked into his teacup and fell quiet. Mai pulled him closer and rested her chin on his shoulder. "It's my one loose end from the war. The one thing left unfinished from my past. I don't even know if she's still alive but somehow… I can feel her. I know I can."

"Zuko…" Aang said. Momo ran to the young Fire Lord and settled into his lap.

"…Mat, how'd you know I was going to bring up my Mother?" Zuko looked to Mat at the fireplace. "Last I checked, you couldn't read minds too."

"The first time I came here, Pythia hinted that my real work wouldn't begin until after my title was reclaimed. I think after the war is what she meant." Mat stood from the ruined fire and moved to a window. "It sounds kinda bad, but I think my first few trips here weren't really to help you beat Ozai—You all seemed pretty capable of that on your own. Rather, I think it was to gain your trust."

Mat signed and leaned on the windowsill, looking out into the night. "For the past month I've been dreaming…dreaming about a great darkness on the horizon. I feel all the elements in this darkness—they're tainted somehow, like the bending is inherently evil."

"That's impossible." Aang spoke up. "The elements aren't good or evil, they're not even sentient."

"But certain disciplines of bending sure seem evil…like Bloodbending." Katara said quietly.

Mat nodded. "They're definitely being used in a way we've never seen before. In the dream, there are four… things, piercing through darkness. One is a white flame taking the shape of a bird… I think that's me. One is a swirl of colors and symbols—reds and blues, greens and yellows—that's got to be you all, the Senken. One is a fire Nation hairpiece. A single tongue of flame, wrought of gold."

"That's Mother's hairpiece!" Zuko said. "It was never found after her… after she disappeared."

Mat's smile grew grim. "I recognized it from her portrait in the Grand Hall."

"Well that must mean she's still alive! She's alive and hiding somewhere."

"If she's been in hiding, why hasn't she come back since you took over?" Katara asked.

Zuko lost some of his smile. "I…I don't know…"

"Regardless," Aang said. "It seems finding her is more important than ever."

"What about the last symbol?" Toph asked.

"It wasn't a symbol… it was more like a montage of images. It starts as girl wreathed in blue fire. First she's laughing with madness in her eyes. Then it shows the same girl in cuffs and chains. She's shackled and caged, like a dangerous animal. Her eyes are vacant, empty…a void." Mat shook himself, as if trying to cast off a chill or a particularly bad nightmare.

"After that I see two things in quick succession, like alternate paths. I see her wreathed in white fire, at the head of a parade in her honor. She's happy and all of you are waiting at the end of the parade with smiles. When I follow this path the darkness is burnt away, I feel nothing but peace. I wake up, and all is good. But when I follow the other path…"

Mat was regaining the faded, weak appearance he had shown before dinner. "I see her lying on the muddy earth, cold rain pelting her face. I see… I see a huge wound in her stomach. A great gaping hole—I can see clear through her body to the bloody ground she's laying on. Worse than that—she's all alone. Her eyes… I feel the light fading from her eyes in the cold rain…"

The room had grown silent; Mat looked like he was going to be sick. "And when the last of her life fades away the darkness overwhelms me. Pain races through my body like I've never felt before— it's freezing and burning and cutting and bludgeoning all at the same time. Then the dream ends."

Mat looked up from the floor. He seemed smaller somehow, spent. "You all know I haven't been getting much sleep lately, so you can guess which way the dream normally ends." He managed a weak smile. "It's times like this I wish I paid more attention in Clairsentience class."

The group was quiet… the impact of their friend's dream sinking in. "This darkness… when is it supposed to get here?" Aang asked.

"I don't know. It could be a day, could be a month, maybe a year. This is the longest I've spent in one place since I started this job, and to be honest it's making me a little edgy. All I know for sure is that it's coming and that somehow Zuko's Mother is part of it. As well as…"

"Her." Mai breathed.

"Yeah." Mat turned back to the window, looking out over the palace. He looked beyond it—over the city beneath the palace, past the bay it was built around. He looked past the Great Gates of Azulon and over the mountainous terrain of the Fire Nation mainland. The Phoenix's green eyes seemed to pierce all the way across the ocean, to a forsaken prison cell on a remote island north of the room the only people in the world he trusted were relaxing in. He looked out, and a name escaped his lips. So soft that only Toph, as was her curse, could feel and make sense of the vibrations his sigh had made.

_"Azula."_

…\/…\/…\/…

_Here ends Episode 1_

_Μαυ τἑ Σἱνινγ ονε λιγ-τ τἑ παθ._

Well, I think for every question I answered, I added about five more! I can't tell if that's good writing or crappy writing, I'll leave it up to you to tell me :D

Couple things: First, Mat's head shield technique is based off the principles of the Compressibility Factor—a physics principle. Check it out on Wikipedia if you kids don't believe me.

Second, props to The-Second-To-Last-Airbender for beta-reading this. I really appreciate it.

Third: Review docket is 0/10 remember that for every 10, I post a chapter immediately and then again on the normal Friday update. That's two in one week! Man, you all should be so into that.

Mmk, I'm gonna go shut up now. Thanks for reading!


	4. Of Breakdowns and Breakouts

The Avatar Saga—Azula's redemption

Chapter 4: Of Breakdowns and Breakouts

By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

"Mom, why do I have to go so early?"

"I told you last night he would be here to pick you up at sunrise. You shouldn't have stayed up all night reading."

"Well… How long will I be gone?"

"…For a while."

_Here begins Episode 2_

_ιτ αλωαυς σταρτς ωιθ α συνρισε..._

….\/….\/….\/….

Five years.

Five long years she's been in this cell. Five long years without seeing the sun, the sky, or even the boiling lake surrounding this spirit forsaken prison. Five years in a cooler built just for her, specially designed for long-term containment.

It was larger than the small, cramped coolers other firebenders were kept in—with a thin, decrepit mattress and toilet as its only furnishings. It was larger, and it wasn't quite as cold as other coolers, but its intention was the same—to make a firebender so cold they couldn't produce enough heat to bend. It was here she waited—numb, unthinking, void of any emotion. She spent today the same way she spent yesterday, and the same way she will spend tomorrow: staring at the door, waiting for the small slot to open and for someone to slide her next meal through.

She would walk calmly to her meal, her breath steaming, clouding her vision. She would eat it quietly and quickly, before it froze. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she knew that without food her body would have no energy to burn for heat, allowing the cold to claim a few more degrees she could never get back. As she silently ate, she mused that she was slowly losing body heat anyway, and her feeble attempts at staying warm were a losing battle. She accepted this, and thought no more of it. She had stopped caring whether or not she lived, or felt sunshine, or saw another person's face. She no longer cared about her future, or about her life—about anything really. But she wasn't always like this. When she was first thrown into this cooler, she did care.

Azula cared very much.

The first year was insanity, turbulent and frenzied. She was delirious, and spent her most coherent days running through the entire spectrum of human emotion: she'd laugh, cry, and speak nonsense to phantoms from her past. Visages of her father, mother and brother circled her with dizzying speed—calling her liar, monster—reminding her that they never really loved her, only bided their time till they could get rid themselves of her for good. Shades of Mai and Ty Lee would sit in the cell with her, never speaking, in the corner of her vision. Azula would turn to them, only to find she was alone.

She spoke to these shadows—arguing, explaining, apologizing and raving all within the same breath. During the worst of it, Azula's madness could cause a complete mental shutdown, and she'd lapse into unconsciousness for days on end. Eventually she would rouse herself, only to begin the cycle once again. For a year this madness persisted. But Azula soon came to her senses and began to think on the events leading up to her imprisonment. This gave her mind clarity, and replaced the lunacy with something entirely more violent.

The second year was fury, wild and incendiary. Azula raged for days, screaming curses to the walls of her icy prison. How could they do this to her? She was the Fire Lord! She was the rightful ruler of her country, and every minute she remained imprisoned was a crime of the highest order. Azula swore revenge on everyone who ever wronged her, then on everyone whom she'd ever met, and finally on everyone she'd ever heard of or thought about. She wanted the world to suffer for what had happened to her. She'd scream herself hoarse, and then would throw herself against the door until her voice healed and her shoulder bled.

She would pounce like a rabid animal whenever the food slot opened, trying to reach whoever was on the other side. She would tell this person all the ways she would make him feel pain, how she would torture him personally for weeks—killing his loved ones in front of him before finally ending his pitiful, peasant life. No replies ever came from that slot though, and after a year, even Azula's famous rage had been extinguished.

The third year was sorrow, pitiful and weak. Azula sank deeper and deeper into the black void of depression, eating less and less every day. Her core temperature sank without the energy from the food needed to maintain it, and her body began cannibalizing itself to stay alive. She thought of all the cruel and wicked things she'd done and took to crying daily. She had betrayed her friends, attacked her brother, and dishonored her entire nation. She'd even tried to kill the Avatar, very incarnation of the planet itself! Azula dwelled on her sins, and felt true regret. She begged the food slot to bring her Zuko, her friends, or even the Avatar so she could apologize. She was desperate for someone to talk to, someone to listen to. Azula wanted to die that year, to rid the world of her wicked evil.

The fourth hear was instinct, feral and reflexive. Despite her wish to die, Azula's body refused to give up on life. She became mechanical, going for weeks on end in thoughtless bliss. She never thought of her past, and kept what little human reason she managed to retain focused entirely on the present. Food, sleep, and waiting for food to come again was all her life consisted of, all she thought about. This seemed the shortest of the four years, and for that she was thankful.

Then, one day, the vent that had been routinely pumping in frigid air for the last four years stopped. Likely it was a break in the system—a mechanical failure needing repair. For two days, the temperature in her cell slowly began to rise. And with each degree of heat, her mind re-opened a little bit more.

This brought Azula to the fifth year of her life sentence. She had learned to accept her fate, and expected nothing more from the world but her daily meal. She no longer thought of herself as a privileged Fire Nation Princess, nor the first woman Fire Lord, Second only to Phoenix King. No, now she was simply Azula the prisoner, a women waiting for death. The one smudge on her otherwise impeccably thoughtless life began a month ago, when she started dreaming again.

It was a strange dream, at the same time ethereal and more real than anything she'd ever experienced. She would open her eyes and find herself among the clouds, standing atop column of unfamiliar design. She wore a long white dress, its sleeves covering her arms completely and the hem spilling over the back of the column to be lost amongst the clouds.

It always started with a sunrise.

This light was not harsh—she found no desire to shield her vision or look away—it was a warm, inviting light, at the same time both alien and familiar. Slowly the light grew, and as she reached out for the gleaming whiteness the vague form of a man, with eyes of striking green and hair the color of a sunrise, began to take shape. But just as their hands touched Azula would awake to her bitter, frigid cell—a callous reminder of where exactly she was and where exactly she would remain. The dream deeply bothered her, and Azula tried her best to not think on it for too long.

However, life in a cell gave her little else to think about, and Azula often found herself slowly applying some of her renowned intellect to this puzzle of a dream. Obviously, it was little more than a fantasy. Azula knew she would never leave this cell again, so these images of wide open spaces amongst the clouds could only be been her mind's attempt at escaping reality. The emotions she felt in the dream were troubling, as she knew that feeling emotions again would only lead her back to depression or rage, and she had no intention of reliving one of the last five years.

The bright figure… that was obviously her body trying to cope with not seeing another person for so long. No one had red hair, at least not like he did. But still, she couldn't help but shake the feeling that she knew this stranger from somewhere, sometime before her life became cold and thoughtless.

It didn't matter though. Nothing in Azula's dreams changed her reality. She was in a freezing, bending-proof cell in the middle of an inescapable prison surrounded by boiling water. Azula had babbled past lunacy, raged through fury, outlasted depression, and survived without thought; nothing could faze her now.

At least, that was what she had thought…

………………………………………………………………………

The morning (If it even was morning—Azula could never tell.) began like any other for the Princess the world forgot. She awoke to the physical numbness that came with lying still for any length of time in this cell, and proceeded to do several varied warm-up exercises, helping to raise her temperature and pull feeling back into her limbs. The exercise kept her healthy, which was fortunate as sickness in this place spelled certain death. It was also something to occupy her mind with; the steady motions and repetitions kept her from thinking about the dream.

She stopped frequently to avoid sweating, and during these periods of rest she would listen to the sounds her cell made. The whooshes of cold air circulating in the vent above her, the groans of the metal prison—she even trained herself to hear the lapping of the boiling waves against the prison walls. Azula would cast her mind out and walk the prison complex, "watching" every door rattle open and slam shut, following every guard's heavy steel-toed boots. Soon, the footsteps bringing her daily meal would reach her ears and she would follow them until they arrived at her food-slot—the one piece of human interaction she had left.

Today however, something was different. It began with a tremor, like an object impacting the recreation grounds. It was so faint that Azula thought at first she had imagined it. She was just beginning to think about how something that hit hard enough for her to feel it had to have left a sizeable crater when the prison alarm system blared to life. Azula had only heard the alarms twice before, first when her brother was escaping and second when she was being escorted onto the island. The noise frightened her—she was unaccustomed to anything but muted echoes and footfalls. Azula had no time to dwell on her fear however, as soon the prison erupted into chaos. All around her people were shouting, screams and barked orders filtering through the prison walls—the first voices she had heard in five years.

"Stop him! Seal all the levels! Don't let him in!!"

"He's melting the doors down, our bending isn't working!"

"Get out the pikes—don't get too close to him!"

"Archers Fire! Fire, damn you!! Stop his advance at all costs!!"

The voices were getting closer, she realized. Whoever had broken through was coming for her, Azula was sure of it. Despite believing she had accepted her fate, Azula's heart began to race, and her mind spun with the possibilities. Was it an assassin, secretly hired by her brother to finally put her down? Some sort of insurgency group, bent on rescuing and using her to overthrow the Fire Lord? A Dragon, seeking revenge for her family's part in the decimation of its brethren? Her attention was drawn again outside of her door, where guards began to form up outside her cell—the only one on this level. She could hear their heavy breathing, their audible fear.

"No matter what happens, he cannot be permitted to reach the Princess. Don't use firebending, that'll only make him stronger. Stick to your pikes and arrows, maybe one of them will get through to the skin."

"Why is he doing this, commander? I thought he was on our side. Just last week he put on a show for the Fire Lord!"

"I heard they got into a big fight a few days ago in front of a bunch of nobles. He took off from the palace and hasn't been seen since."

"We're dead men! He can bring this entire volcano's power to bear! I heard if that he were to die, he'd just come back from his own ashes! We're not fighting a man, we're fighting a Monster!!"

"Lee! Get a hold of yourself. Keep going into hysterics, and I'll put you at the point of the formation! And I don't know, Rai—he hasn't killed anyone yet, but he hasn't said anything either. This isn't like any of the stories I've heard about him."

"Commander! Th-The Door!!"

"All right, here he comes! Remember—he's still a man, and he dies like any other!"

With a sickening crunch, Azula could hear the door to the level blown off its hinges. She jumped at the sound of the blast, and from what she could hear the guards hadn't stayed in place either. To their credit they quickly reformed, and the commander soon had them back in line.

"Arrows, LAUNCH!" The twangs of bowstrings reached Azula's ears, and she expected to hear the sound of arrowheads sinking into flesh soon after. She cocked her head, instead hearing the tell-tale snaps of flames licking wood. She heard the tinkles of arrowheads colliding with the steel floor, and the startled gasps of the prison guards.

For a brief moment, there was nothing but shocked silence outside her door. Then, a single pair of footfalls started to move from the level's entry-way to the petrified guards. These weren't the steel-toed boots she had come to recognize as a guard or soldier. The steps were light, as if whoever owned them was just going for an afternoon stroll to the Turtle Duck pond. A voice came with those footfalls—immediately familiar, yet completely unrecognizable.

"Mm'kay. So as you can see, I'm gonna torch all your arrows, so anything else you shoot is just gonna be a waste of ammo. Now I haven't killed anyone yet, and I don't want to—you guys are just doing your jobs, and I respect that. So I'll leave it up to your commander there— that's you, right? The one with the tricked out hat? We can do this the easy way, or the hard way."

"_That voice_," Azula thought. "_Where have I heard that voice?"_

"For Zuko! CHAAARGE!"

The voice sighed, "Always with the hard way. Well here—hopefully this won't kill any of you…"

Azula heard the stranger clap his hands, and followed with her ears as a large fwoosh echoed through the hallway—as if all the air was pulled out of the level at once. She listened as the guards collapsed, their metal helmets clanging against the unyielding prison floor. Again there was silence, save for her own heavy breathing and the blood pounding in her ears. Then it was just her and the strange footfalls, slowly advancing to her cell door.

Still not knowing just who this man was or what he wanted with her Azula scrambled, trying to do ten different things at once. She looked for a place to hide, a place to attack, her mind frozen solid after so many years of seclusion. She straightened her tattered and ragged tunic, the last remaining piece of Fire Nation Princess inside of her trying to be presentable, while the broken prisoner inside of her wondered if the stranger would leave her alone if she looked pitiful enough. She thought up a million disparaging remarks, angry at the time it took for someone to finally decide the world still needed her intelligence and power, while coming up with a million more words of thanks, overcome with the joy of knowing that at least one person in the world found her life worthwhile.

Azula fought to reclaim the Zen-like calm she had acquired within the last year, but she might as well have been trying to tame a dragon. All too soon, the footfalls stopped outside her cell. She heard the door handle rattle, and an annoyed grunt sound from the hallway.

"Figures they'd lock it. Princess, you might want to stand away from the door—and don't touch it, okay? It's about to get a little hot in there."

Azula couldn't answer—she could just scramble to the freezing back wall of her cell and fall to the ground, transfixed by what was happening to her tiny, self-contained world. The ice crusting the door began to crack and melt. Soon, the entire door was glowing red, then white hot. In the back of her mind, a voice commented to Azula on how she should be roasting alive right now, being so close to something so hot, but it barely registered. All she could do was gape at how the door began to liquidize and melt before her very eyes.

Soon, the door was just a puddle of molten metal on the ground. Warm air rushed into her cell, and her body began shivering violently—a sign that she was regaining heat and coming out of the deeper stages of hypothermia. Azula found herself staring at the figure on the other side of the threshold—he was panting heavily, his hands on his knees and scorching red hair concealing his eyes.

"Hah…hah…sorry, just give me a second. It's not easy making steel go from frozen to melted that fast, on top of containing the heat on the side I can't see…hah…hah…but you don't want to hear me complain—just forget I said it. Here, let me just take some of that heat back…" the figure placed his hand over the molten metal, and with the same fwooshing sound she heard earlier, seemed to absorb the heat into his palm; cooling it and leaving a hunk of gleaming metal where the door used to be.

Seemingly energized, the man straightened and focused his green eyes on Azula, whose own lit with recognition. He held out his hand, and with a grin, pitched his voice into a strange accent. "Come with me if you want to live."

She remained sitting, equal parts confused at his attempt at humor and astonished at his appearance. No sound escaped her lips save for the violent and uncontrollable chattering of her teeth.

Mat dropped the accent, but kept the grin. "Yeah, I thought it was a cheesy line the first time I heard it too. That movie really didn't have the writing talent the first one did. "

"…Wh-wh-what?"

"Ahh, don't worry about it. But seriously come on, we need to go."

"And wh-who are yu-you?" Azula found her feet, but kept her back against the wall—trying admirably to appear in control of the situation. At the very least, trying to keep hidden how terribly weak as she felt.

Mat's grin faded somewhat. "You mean you don't remember me? Aw Princess, I'm hurt."

"W-W-We've met b-before?"

"Several times, in fact. During the war, we played for different teams. Aw, geeze, you're a freaking ice cube. Here, give me your hand." Mat extended his hand into the cell, and Azula looked at it suspiciously, still not aware of the stranger's intentions. Trying his best to look sincere and disarming, Mat spoke in a gentle voice, "Trust me, the last thing I need is you passing out in the middle of your own escape."

Azula stared blankly at the hand, her mind still trying to process the act of talking after five years without seeing another person. Fortunately, the survival instincts that had kept her alive during her darkest hours were still working. Fighting the cold she was feeling now more than ever, Azula slowly gave her trembling hand to the man she had been dreaming of for the past month.

As their skin touched, warmth rushed through her arm, catching her off guard. Azula's eyes rolled back and she fell forward as the shock of such rapid warmth reached parts of her body that had been numb for almost five years straight. Quick as a flash, Mat was there in the cell, catching her and sweeping her up into his arms; cradling her frail, shivering body to his own. His body was like a huge blanket, and he saturated her with life-giving heat. "Shit," he whispered, "I gave you too much heat too fast, sorry."

The Phoenix carried the Princess out of her icy prison, walking down the hallway and towards the scorched metal that used to be this level's door. Azula's eyes fluttered open, and she looked over Mat's shoulder, taking note of just how many guards had been sent to keep him from getting to her. Fifteen guards were clustered together, dazed and groaning on the floor in front of her cell.

Still weak as a newborn Tiger Seal, Azula dropped her head and slurred into Mat's chest, "whudidja do to'em?"

"I superheated the air for about half a second," Mat's soft voice echoed around them as he began to ascend the stairs to the recreation grounds. "Induced mass heat exhaustion. They'll be fine in a couple of hours, once their internal temperatures come back down. Be super-thirsty, though."

They climbed the rest of the way in silence. Mat couldn't help but notice how feeble Azula seemed, how insubstantial her body had become. "_That's what happens when you're stuck in a freezer for five years_." He thought, "_Man, Zuko. Was there really no other way?"_

They reached the top of the stairs, and stood at the door that would take them outside. Mat was about to kick open the door when he felt Azula's small hands push against his chest. "…'Ssaright, I can walk."

"You sure? You haven't been out of that cell in five years and yo—"

"I know how long I've been in there," Azula said, strength returning to her voice. "I want to walk outside by my own power. _Put me down, now_…Please."

"Whatever you want, Princess." Mat gently slid her out of his arms, noticing that she was barefoot and mentally kicking himself for not bringing her any shoes. "Listen, we haven't seen any more guards, so they're all probably waiting for us outside. Stay close to me, and move quickly—okay?" He waited until he saw her nod. Then, taking a deep breath, he opened the door.

….\/….\/….\/….

Mmk, Chapter 4! Start of episode 2, for all you kiddies. I sort of see this like a tv show in my head, with the cuts being commercials. JUST THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW.

Anyway, thanks for reading.


	5. Of Powers and Partings

The Avatar Saga—Azula's redemption

Chapter 5: Of Powers and Partings

By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

"Uncle Max, what's going on?"

"Just look there, into the rising sun. Someone wants to meet you."

"Shouldn't this be hurting my eyes? Why do I feel so warm?"

"Matthew… I'm so sorry."

….\/….\/….\/….

The two escapees stepped out of the compound and into the darkened prison grounds. Azula sighed; a bit disappointed her first glimpse of the outside world in so long was under the cover of darkness. She didn't have time to dwell on it though, as Mat was quietly making his way across the recreation yard and towards the far wall. Azula struggled to keep up with him, her body still shaky from the drastic change in temperature and her legs unused to walking farther than the length of her cell.

The two passed a shallow crater, bottom of the hole still glowing a molten orange. Well, at least she now she knew who made the tremor earlier. They had cut across the center of the prison yard when bells sounded and lights poured over them.

"Matthias Musagetes! Stop where you are and give the prisoner up, we have you surrounded!"

The wall that ringed the recreation grounds was loaded with guards. Doors were thrown open and more guards streamed onto the grounds, surrounding the escapees and outnumbering them at least two hundred to two. Mat forced an easy smile and edged in front of Azula, who was staring wide-eyed, any hopes of escape erased from her mind.

"Warden, I didn't expect you up so late! I gotta tell you—I just came from visiting Zuko in the palace, and your niece is absolutely stunning! I swear she gets more beautiful every time I visit."

"Save your breath, Musagetes. I heard all about your fight with the Fire Lord last week. Deep down in my gut, I knew it must have been about her." The Warden cocked his head at Azula, who tried to return the glare but found herself looking away after only a few seconds. The man was an intimidating sight—his shoulder-length salt and pepper hair was unusual in this part of the world, and made him appear wild and dangerous. Since his Fire Lord's escape from this very complex, he had trained both his men and himself to be the very best prison-keepers in the Nation, and had both the bulging muscles and increased firebending skills to prove it.

"I don't know why you would betray the Fire Nation—no, the world—like this, but let me be eaten by a Dragon if I just stand aside and let you walk off of my island. Step away from the prisoner and I'll see about letting you off with only a few years in a cooler."

Mat's easy smile was erased; like a pillar of stone he stood, the air around the prison dropping several degrees as he began absorbing heat from the volcano. He locked eyes with the warden, all trace of joviality gone from his face. "I have the world's best interests at heart. Azula must be free to take her own path, not stuck in a cell where she'll slowly freeze to death."

"That's for the Fire Lord to decide, not you!" The warden's famous temper flared to life. "Now, this is your last warning—you can be imprisoned alone or die together, but you will not escape my prison!"

Azula stared at her rescuer. "_Musagetes, Phoenix… Who is this man? These names all sound so familiar, why can't I remember?"_ Her thoughts were interrupted when Mat spoke again.

"No, this is _your_ last warning. Let us go peacefully, or I can't guarantee that I won't accidentally kill your guards. I've spent long enough tip-toeing around you ants, and I'm beginning to lose my patience!" Mat stamped his foot on the ground, the heat he had been collecting since he arrived channeled directly into the stone of the recreational grounds.

The rock around his foot grew a deep red and quickly melted into lava. A channel of molten rock spread from his foot to the nearest section of wall, sending guards both on the ground and on the parapets scrambling to get clear of the molten river. The lava pooled beneath the towering wall of steel and stone, causing the entire section to give way and plunge into the boiling water surrounding the island. Guards screamed as the scalding water launched into the air, raining down over the entire prison.

Azula cringed, expecting the same boiling-hot dousing everyone else was receiving. Cracking open an eye, she saw Mat standing over her, shielding her body with his own. Using one hand to absorb the heat from any water that came near them, Mat used his other hand to siphon heat from the entire lake. Shimmering tendrils of super-heated air radiated from the hole in the wall to his hand, and when the scalding rain finally stopped, Mat raised both arms over his head, his palms open and fingers bent into claws.

"You made a grave mistake Warden, challenging the will of the Fire-Snatcher while inside a freaking volcano!" Mat roared as he released the rest of his newly acquired energy straight up in the form of a white-hot column of flame, at least twice as high as the guard walls. Guards scattered under the awesome display of power, and the Warden cowered from his position on the battlements.

Ceasing his torrent of fire, Matthias dropped his hands to his sides. The lake water that covered him evaporated in a billowing cloud, and steam streamed from his mouth with every heavy breath he took. Mat's chest was heaving with the effort of such a show, and Azula almost took a step back when he looked over his shoulder. His eyes were a blazing green, and his whisper was hidden beneath a cloud of steam.

"Hey, I need you to climb on my back."

"…Excuse me?"

"Come on, hurry up—while they're all scared shitless we can get out of here. Climb on."

"What? I'm not going to climb onto your back." Azula crossed her arms over her chest. "Look at you, you can barely stand up. You're not in the shape to carry anything right now, especially me. Besides, how could that help us escape?"

Matt turned to her, surprised by her lack of enthusiasm for his idea. "Because I can blast us… God, you're impossible. Just stop being ridiculous and get on my back!"

"You can insult me all you want; I'm not going anywhere near you after you just absorbed an entire volcano's heat."

"Do you really think I would go through all of this effort of breaking into a high-security prison just to burn you with a piggyback ride? Seriously, just—Gah! …Fine. Whatever. I don't care." Throwing up his hands in defeat, Mat turned back to the warden.

"Hey…I'm not sure what the best way to ask this is, but…Can we borrow a transport balloon?"

………………………………………………………………………

They rode from the Boiling Rock in silence. Mat occupied himself with powering and steering the balloon, while Azula slowly came to terms with the last three hours. They landed softly on the northern part of Capital Island, a quiet and deserted stretch of beach. It wasn't until Mat had hidden the balloon under trees and other pieces of camouflage that Azula finally spoke.

"So who exactly are you, and what do you want with me?"

Mat finished his disguise for the balloon and straightened, watching the moon as it sank beyond the horizon. "Well, it wasn't the most impressive prison escape I've been involved in, but all in all, at least no one died. Princess, why don't you start a fire and I'll go get us some food, eh? You must be starved. We can talk after we get some calories in you." He made to leave into the woods, when Azula's voice stopped him.

"How do you know I'll still be here when you come back?" Azula hated herself for sounding weak, for making it seem like she needed this man. Unfortunately, the hard truth was that he was the first person to speak to her in five years. No amount of royal pride changed the fact that she didn't want to be alone so soon after the Boiling Rock.

Mat cast a look over his shoulder. "You're a half-starved fugitive stranded on a nation you tried to run into the ground. You've got no friends, nowhere to go, and your only surviving relatives are the ones who thought it best to keep you locked up in a freezer. You won't be going anywhere. Besides," He gave the Princess a small smile. "More than anything else, you're curious. Just hang tight—I'll be back in about an hour." And with that he disappeared into the woods.

Azula sat on the beach, gazing out to the starlight-illuminated sea and cursing the hard truths Mat had quite bluntly laid before her. She was sure she knew him from the war somehow, but her memories of that tremulous year were scattered and fragmented, blocked off by her own subconscious.

For a long while she sat there in the sand, watching the waves ebb and flow against the shore. Within every crest, she saw another face—her friends, family, even the Avatar and his followers. Every crash of the waves against the shore brought to mind another clash against the Avatar, another scheme for power, and another betrayal of her trust by people she thought were her friends. She watched the stars slowly march across the horizon and saw thousands of Fire Nation soldiers march into Ba Sing Se, occupying the last great power in the world. They had brought with them her greatest triumph; they had brought with them the beginning of her downfall.

For the first time since her year of sorrow, Azula cried.

After what must have been an hour of morbid musing, Azula scrubbed at her face and shook her head, clearing it of all depressing thoughts. "_No. Not again. Got to keep busy, keep moving. He'll be back soon with food." _ The Princess set to work.

Once she had gathered enough firewood, Azula struck a simple stance and punched. Nothing happened. Confused, Azula tried again; focusing she breathed in, and as she punched, breathed out. Still nothing. Not a wisp of smoke or hint of spark to be found. Azula's blood ran cold. She had lost her bending.

"No fire yet?" Mat called, returning from the woods. "What, are you still chilled from the Boiling Rock?"

Azula spun around to see him standing there, a rucksack slung over his shoulder. He threw her his haori, which she caught and pulled over her shoulders. It smelled like citrus. Azula found its warmth comforting, contrasting how strangely uncomfortable she found her latest lie to be. "I…I guess so. Just chilled, I guess….Um, could you…?" Mat gave her a long, searching look. She tried to match his gaze, but like with the Warden she couldn't hold it, and ended up turned away.

"Sure." Mat said lightly, allowing the lie to stand. Sparking his thumb with the same four-fingered snap he had used at the politician's banquet, Mat threw a ball of flame into the firewood.

He held the sack out to Azula. "Here, there's some Fire Cakes, rice balls and jerky. A water-flask too. Eat your fill; I had some on the way back."

Azula tore into the bag, her body's need for food overcoming any ingrained royal etiquette she managed to retain from the Boiling Rock. It wasn't until she had finished her fourth Fire Cake that she realized they were still warm. "Mmmf, where did you get these?"

Mat dropped himself onto the ground, next to the fire. He watched with an amused expression as Azula wolfed down her fifth cake before answering. "There's a village on the other side of the woods. I just went into the tavern there and bought some stuff. The cakes were still in the oven when I woke the tavern keeper up."

He lounged on the sand, warming sore muscles and pulling heat slowly from the fire. "I got an odd look for being up so late, but she didn't ask too many questions… You know, you're not some animal in a cage anymore. You don't have to eat like one."

Scowling, Azula washed her latest mouthful down with water from the flask and made a show of daintily wiping her mouth on the side of his haori before asking her next question. "Well we have food and fire, now will you tell me who you are and what's going on?"

She thought she saw Mat's face shift for a moment—turn pensive, indecisive, and worried all at once. Just as quickly as it had come it was gone, back to the same easy smile he always seemed to have, leaving Azula to wonder if she had really seen it or if the fire was just playing tricks on her eyes.

"Right. I guess I was just waiting for something to jog your memory. Well you heard the Warden. My name is Matthias Musagetes—Mat for short. I've picked up a few titles over the last six years, but there's only one that I came here with: The White Phoenix…Nothing?" Mat looked at his hands, seemingly lost. He reached out into the fire, withdrawing a handful of flame. He absentmindedly started to play with it, moving it through and around his fingertips, shifting it from hand to hand. "Man, you really don't remember…"

He continued to speak as he worked the fire, and Azula watched with cautious fascination as he began infusing the flame with some sort of matter—giving it substance and mass. "I just can't get over the fact that you don't remember me. I mean, I know that year was…stressful… but man, I had hoped I'd left some kind of impression. Oh well, maybe something will jump out at you later." Mat sat up in the sand, focusing more on what he was making than the shifting stars above.

"As to what I'm doing here… well, that's a tough question to answer. My trips here have been two-fold—to aid the Aang in stopping your father, and to help out again when the second darkness arises."

"The second darkness?"

Mat nodded and opened his hands. He had made a miniature dog out of fire, and was letting it take its first steps onto the beach. Secretly, Azula marveled at the feat—whatever he was doing, it wasn't firebending. The creature was solid and looked like a living, breathing animal, aside from its shifting orange color and small size. The little fire construct pranced about the campfire yipping and growling at imagined enemies, tripping over its own legs, like any puppy would do. Wherever it ran, its feet would leave little footprints of glass in the sand, a testament to how hot it was.

He opened his hands and dog ran back to him. Closing his fist, Mat reduced the construct back to flame and reworked the plasma, like it was molding clay. "A great black cloud, rolling across all four nations, threatening to cover every light in the world. I've been dreaming about it for more than a month now… and dreaming about you." Mat opened his hands to reveal a fire-wrought butterfly, beautifully detailed. It floated into the air like an ember, coming to rest on Azula's shoulder.

At first she flinched, expecting the little fire-bug to burn. Surprisingly it merely felt warm, comforting. It felt like a portion of the Phoenix's touch. Azula looked from the butterfly to Mat, who was watching her with a surprised smile. "Heh, it's not everyone who can touch my constructs and not be burnt. I guess that means my fire likes you."

Azula transferred the butterfly from her shoulder to her finger. It rested contentedly, airing out its wings. "…You said you've been dreaming about me?"

It might have been the fire again, but Azula swore she caught a tinge of blush on Mat's cheeks. At the very least, his embarrassed smile was obvious. "Uhh, yeah. As the darkness approaches in my dream, you appear. I see you have two possible futures. In one you redeem yourself, join the rest of the Senken, and fight off the darkness. The other… well, you don't want to know what happens in the other future."

"Listen," Mat shifted in the sand, his movement causing the butterfly to float off Azula's finger and back to its creator. Azula almost reached after it, to feel it's warmth for a while longer. She contented herself to burrow deeper into the haori and watch the butterfly float gracefully back to its master's hand, where it was balled up and worked again.

"Right now you're are caught between two contrasting desires; on one side is your Father, Grandfather, and Great-Grandfather's desire for power and prestige—desires that eventually destroyed them, along with all they worked for." While she would have liked to defend her family's actions, Azula couldn't argue the logic in Mat's words; Sozin had spent his life hunting the Avatar, Azulon had been killed by his son's lust for the throne, and Ozai was stripped of his powers due to his insurmountable greed.

"On the other side, you have forces that desire nothing but to protect, balance, and bring peace. Your Mother, and your Uncle Iroh." Azula scoffed and began muttering something about fat, lazy uncles before Mat stopped her. "You know, after you all returned from Ba Sing Se Iroh did nothing but train in his cell, and he ended up strong enough to re-take the city more or less by himself. Hell, even I'm scared of the guy.…And I'm pretty sure it's Zuko's time with Iroh that helped him decide to train Aang."

"Anyway, these two conflicting ideals—one of domination, the other of protection—struggle for control within you, just as they did within Zuko." Mat shifted his attention to his hands, which were moving in more intricate patterns around the ball of plasma. "And just like him, you have to make the decision to change on your own." Cupping the crude construct in one hand, he used the other to draw more heat from the fire and add it to his work, slowing bringing about the desired shape.

"I can't… no, I _won't_ force you to come with me. But the darkness is rising Princess, I can feel it. Zuko and I thought we could get a jump on it by getting you out now and not waiting for…whoever it is… to make the first move. Zuko wants us to find your mother—She seems somehow connected to all this."

Sighing, Mat and opened his hands once again. Out from his cupped fingers emerged a tiny Phoenix, immaculately detailed and more lifelike than his previous two creations combined. It poked its head out of his hands and looked up, chirping in recognition of its creator. Jumping out of his hands, the young construct wobbled its way over to Azula, studying her with a critical eye. She held her hand out to the bird, which pecked at it affectionately, chirped again, than took off into the air. The firebird circled the camp twice and, with one last call, flew over the woods and out of sight.

"Where is it going?"

"Honestly? I don't really know. I've only made a few Phoenixes—and each one seems to have a mind of its own. Some stay with me, some travel around for a bit, and then come back. Some fly off to who knows where… it's a mystery."

"You've never tried to follow them?"

"What would be the point? If they wanted to come back, they would. Sometimes, you just got to let things go."

"…If I decided to leave, would you let me go?" Azula turned to look at Mat. He was still looking at where the Phoenix had disappeared; perhaps hoping to see it again, perhaps so he wouldn't have to show her his face.

"…Your life is your own, Princess."

They sat there awhile; Phoenix and Princess, watching the Sun slowly rise over the horizon. They sat together, but still apart. Separated by the fire between them, neither spoke. Then with the sunrise Azula gathered the food and water into the rucksack and shed the white haori. Standing, she walked away—down the beach and without turning back. As she did, she whispered two words to the wind, a small part of her hoping it would carry back to the man still sitting on the beach, the only man to ever relinquish his power over her, regardless of the consequences. The only man she knew who gave her something, asking for nothing in return.

"…_Thank you..."_

…\/…\/…\/…

_Here ends Episode 2_

_Φοεβυς πλεασε ωατχ ουερ __ἑ__ρ. Σ__ἑ__ καννοτ ωατχ ουερ __ἑ__ρσελφ._

Weelp, episode 2 all done! Hope you guys liked it. For those still sticking with me from before the mulligan, I know this is all pretty familiar, but I hope you appreciate the little changes all the same.

Also… Fanarts! I've got two pics of Mat here, so you can finally see what he looks like. *note both are rough sketches subject to change.*

Here is his outfit, note he should have long pants, some kind of shoes, and a sash rather than a championship wrestling belt… h++.com/art/EARLY-SKETCH-of-Mat-in-Avatar-114305535

And here is his lovely mug, minus the green eyes he's supposed to have: h++.com/art/Face-of-a-Wanderer-rough-114833997

So… Whaddaya think!?! Chapters good? Artwork good? Life good? I wanna know!

Review count 2/10


	6. Of Rhinos and Remembrances

The Avatar Saga—Azula's redemption

Chapter 6: Of Rhinos and Remembrances

By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

"_Μαξιμος ἁς σεντ με α κοῦρος. αρε υου οφ τἑ Μυσαγετες λινε?"_

"…Okay. Could you say that again, except this time not in crazy talk?"

"_υου δο νοτ σπεακ τἑ ολδ τονγυε? ἁυε υου νοτ βεεν τραινεδ, κοῦρος?"_

"Yeah…That's what I thought. Great."

_Here begins Episode 3_

_Α κονφλικτ ρεμεμβερεδ. Α μυστερυ δεεπενεδ..._

….\/….\/….\/….

**FIRE NATION PALACE, FIVE DAYS BEFORE AZULA'S BREAKOUT**

"ZUKO! We need to talk!" The White Phoenix stormed into the main throne room, eliciting startled gasps from the royal court assembled there. Mat was in a foul mood, and he wasn't bothering to contain his tremendous internal heat. The air shimmered and radiated around his clothes, making him look like a living mirage.

"Can it wait? I'm in the middle of holding Court here." Zuko gestured to the multitude of Royal Magistrates and Regional Governors assembled. This was the last formal Court of the season—after this, the Fire Lord was expected to retire with Mai and the Senken until summer, to relax and decompress after a month of straight meetings and delegations.

"No, it cannot wait. It's been waiting five years now! You need to release your sister, Zuko. It's time you set Azula free."

Zuko's face grew hard. "If I recall correctly… the last time Azula walked free she nearly killed Katara and I, in addition to almost taking over the world. Why would I willingly release something dangerous like that back onto the unprepared public?"

"Because she's not some dangerous animal, she's your sister!" Mat's voice rose, along with the heat in the room. Many of the royal court were sweating in their seats, not knowing exactly how this argument would end. "You said you'd help her. Get her past her troubles—heal her. That's the only reason I let you put her in that god-forsaken freezer in the first place!"

"Excuse me? _You_ let _me_ put her in the Boiling Rock?" Zuko clenched his fists, his own temper rising. "Last time I checked I was Fire Lord, not you. I'll do whatever I damn please in regards to my monster of a sister. As her leader and as her older brother, I know what's best for her. Not you."

Zuko leaned forward in his chair, his robes creasing. "I'm warning you, Musagetes—I've been more than accommodating of you and your eccentricities—I've given you a home when you had nowhere else to go. You are the permanent guest, remember? What did you call yourself, "The Wanderer Eternal?" He leaned back, dismissing Mat with a wave. "I recommend you think on that and return to your room. We'll finish this discussion in private."

"LIKE HELL WE WILL!" Mat threw a fist to his side, a gout of flame bursting forth and traveling from his hand to the wall, exploding in a shower of sparks. "Zuko, you give the order to get her out of that hellhole right here and now or I'll—"

"YOU'LL WHAT?" Zuko roared, rising from his throne and pounding his fists into its arms, the ornate chair practically combusted. Women were screaming, men were scrambling out of their chairs and calling for guards—the room had erupted into chaos.

"Shut up… JUST SHUT UP!" Spreading his arms, Matthias absorbed all the heat in the room through his palms, instantly quelling the flames and bringing the temperature down more than thirty degrees. The sudden change shocked the nobility into silence. For a minute no one spoke—the only sounds were Mat's winded panting and Zuko's knuckles cracking in his fists.

"Whatever. I don't need your charity, Zuko. I've been without a home before. I can do it again. I'm out of here—you and Aang can fend for yourselves."

"You even look in the direction of that prison and I'll have every soldier, bender, and war machine at my disposal firing down your throat."

"Don't bother, your Majesty." Mat's voice dripped with sarcasm. He turned his back to Zuko and stormed out of the room. "To hell with you and your crazy sister, none of you are worth the trouble. I'm done with this world—you won't be seeing me again, jackass."

"We're not done yet! You come back here and face me!"

Mat slammed the door, leaving the room before Zuko had even finished speaking. The assembled nobles could only sit in shocked awe at what had just transpired before them. The man that had came to be known as their country's national treasure had just openly defied their new and much-loved Fire Lord. This grim realization couldn't have been driven home more than when they heard a large explosion from the nearby courtyard, signaling the Phoenix's departure from the palace grounds—permanently. Zuko stayed standing, his entire body shaking with suppressed rage.

"I call this Court to an end. Return home to your providences and keep your lands in peace. If I catch even one word of what has happened here being spoken to the public, I will deal with whoever talked. Personally."

………………………………………………………………………

Zuko slammed the door of his personal chambers. He had stridden there directly after ending Court. Servants and guests alike scattered when they saw him coming, his face saying that now was the worst possible time to make a request of the Fire Lord.

As the door closed, Zuko sighed. He turned his head as he heard Mai enter with a handmaiden from the bedroom, pulling a mahogany-wood comb through her long hair. "I heard the fight from all the way over here. I take it things went well."

Zuko smiled, going to his desk and unlacing his boots. "Without a hitch. They ate it hook, line and sinker. I even told them not to say anything—with any luck the fight will be a tavern tale in Jang Hui by tomorrow night." He handed the boots to the servant.

"Thank you, Kerji. That will be all."

Mai moved behind her Fire Lord, massaging his shoulders. "He sent one of his little fire-hounds with a message—I put it in the drawer. How did he say he makes those things again? Metacreativity?"

"Mmhmm. One of the few classes he stayed awake in." Reaching for the drawer, Zuko withdrew the small rolled parchment and opened it. The characters on the page were unreadable by anyone but the Senken and their closest friends; it was a language Mat had taught them to read and write after the war. It was from his homeland—he had called it "English." Zuko translated the writing, Mai reading over his shoulder.

_--Zuko. (And Mai too, probably.)_

_That went well. Like really well. I never knew you and Aang could be so crafty, but this plan was positively sinister—we should do a show at Ember Island this summer. Comedic though, I can't do intensity every night. I'm thinking something along the lines of, "Who's got the Kuai Ball?"_

_Seriously though. With any luck Sokka's right and this will get whoever's pulling strings on the other side to shift attention to you at the palace. At the very least no one will be looking for me anymore. I'm going to disappear for a few days…let the story spread some and make it seem like I've really left for good. Then I'll hit the Rock hard and fast— Azula and I should be able to sneak off into the dark before anyone gets the message out I was there. After we talked last night, my Clairsentience came through much clearer—the dream seemed much more in focus. __I think__ I know we're doing the right thing here. _

_I'll bring her back to the palace—I'm sure you two will want some quality time to sort things out, and I want one more night in a bed before tearing off who knows where to find your Mother. _

_Azula will come back safe, hopefully so will I. Enjoy your vacation, guys. You all deserve it. _

_I'll write when I can, leave the Aviary open._

_Matthias Apollon Musagetes— the White Phoenix._

………………………………………………………………………

Azula walked along the dirt path through the forest, her bare feet sore and unused to life outside a metal cell. The weight of the rucksack was reassuring against her shoulder—at least she didn't have to worry about starving for a while. The sun had been steadily rising for several hours now, and the princess enjoyed the warming heat of the sun's rays. She left Mat and the campfire at dawn, and true to his word he had not stopped her. For the first hour of her journey she was constantly looking over her shoulder, expecting him to come crashing through the woods at any moment, sweeping her up in his ridiculous quest to save the world.

And just slightly disappointed he didn't.

It wasn't like she cared for him or anything. She wasn't some doe-eyed schoolgirl. Azula was never sociable like Ty Lee, constantly garnering the attention of boys left and right. Nor did she ever find herself fixated on one man, like Mai was with Zuko. Azula had grown up finding boys as a whole nothing more than a waste of time. If they weren't soft and spoiled nobles' sons, caring only for the status they could gain from her, they were low-class urchins and peasants—too busy bowing and scraping for the Fire Princess to see she was just a girl after all.

Before, she had enjoyed that fear. Like a predator, she had delighted in others' terror and expected that if she were to ever find a man, then he would have to be subservient to her—Azula was second to no one, save her father. But now the thought of controlling through fear, domestically or otherwise, left a sour taste in her mouth. Azula couldn't put her finger on it, but something about not having human contact for five years had seemed to quell her need to be feared; most likely because it was those terror-inducing ways that had put her in the Boiling Rock to begin with.

Regardless, she never needed someone before, and she didn't need anyone now—her time in the Rock had shown her that. However, needing and wanting were two very different things.

No, Azula decided that her only feelings towards Mat at the moment were ones of frustration, stemming from the mystery of their mutual past left unsolved. She never liked leaving loose ends— Azula always strove for utter perfection. Perfection proved that she needed no one, that she was a power unto herself. But her foggy memories, long hazed by the frigid years of containment in the Boiling Rock, left her mind still incomplete, still imperfect.

And Azula hated imperfection.

At noon she stopped in a small clearing for lunch. It was surrounded on three sides by trees, growing tall and thick in the fertile volcanic soil of Capital Island. Completing the clearing's border was a small stream flowing with crisp, clear water. Azula could tell it was likely spring-fed, as water from a mountaintop normally carried with it toxic minerals from the volcanoes, along with a strong sulfur smell.

As Azula filled the water flask and got out some jerky to eat, she admired the quiet beauty of her surroundings as only someone who had spent a long time incarcerated could. It wasn't long before the events of the past night caught up with her, and Azula drifted off into a light sleep.

"Well, well, what have we here? A poor little princess out all alone." Azula started awake and spun around, finding herself face-to-face with an extremely disgusting individual. He was a man of middle age, with greasy, dark brown hair and several days' worth of scruff plaguing his face and neck. He fingered the hilt of his sword as he advanced on Azula, a yellowed sneer splitting his face. He was flanked on both sides by two more men, both as dilapidated and feral-looking as their leader.

Azula backed away from the three, only to find herself in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by men. They were all fetid—many looked like they hadn't seen civilization for weeks. The majority of them wore the tattered remains of Fire Nation infantry uniforms. Several, like the leader, had firebender insignias stitched beneath copious layers of grime. All of them palmed weapons of some sort, be it a rusty sword, chipped spear, or broken tree-branch. As they closed the circle, Azula counted at least thirty men—far too many to take alone without her bending.

"See, boys? I told you the info was good. Captain Kahchi's hunch was right." The boss snickered, his rotten breath whistling between missing teeth. "Now, why don't you be a good little brat and give yourself up." It wasn't a question, and he toyed with the edge of his hilt as he said it.

"Who are you?" Azula stalled for time, thinking of ways to escape. She considered trying to intimidate the mob with an air of royal superiority, but in her current state of dress it would have been near impossible to pull off.

"Hah! The bitch thinks she's allowed to ask questions! All right, your majesty, I'll give you this one." The man bowed mockingly low, long clumps of waxy and dirty hair falling over his face. "I am Sog, of the Rough Rhinos' illustrious 3rd division, headed the esteemed Captain Kahchi. And these…" the man rose and spread his arms, gesturing to his cohorts, "Are my Rough Rhinos."

The men whooped and hollered, waving their weapons and shouting jeers. Azula swiftly adopted a fighting stance, drawing even more taunts from the crowd.

"Are you sure about this, Boss?" the man on Sog's left asked. He was reedy and gaunt, like he hadn't seen a full meal in days. "I hear she can burn entire units to ash." The man licked his dry lips, his eyes darting between his leader and Azula. Several others gave pause, seeming a bit unsure. Before she could exploit this advantage, however, the boss answered his subordinate in a voice loud enough to reach the entire group.

"That's why I brought you along, Zas—to go in first!" Sog shoved his man into the ring, calling out to the rest of his mob: "All right, you cabbage slugs! Get in there and take her down. I don't care how you do it; just leave her breathing after you're done!"

As the circle closed, several of the more overeager charged ahead, drawing their weapons and taking swipes at Azula. She weaved and dodged, years of training taking hold of her without thought. Ducking beneath one man's pike thrust, she kicked straight up, breaking his spear in two. Not stopping, Azula delivered a flurry of punches to his midsection and ended the kata with a kick to the gut, sending the unfortunate deserter sprawling. Using a broken half of his spear, Azula vaulted over two swordsmen and their dulled blades to the downed man. She drew a practiced breath and, sent a roaring blue fireball straight at his face.

At least, that what she meant to do. Instead, her fist extended just short of the man's terrified eyes, no trace of fire whatsoever emanating from the end of her closed fist. Both Azula and the man stared at each other for a split second, shocked at the lack of sizzling flesh and acrid smoke.

Silently, Azula cursed—she had reacted so fast she had forgotten about her bending. She cursed again, realizing that five years ago she never would have made such a senseless mistake.

The man managed to grin about half a second longer before her other fist shot past the first one, breaking his nose and knocking him out.

"Well, that seals it! The bitch can't bend! Let 'er have it!"

Emboldened, the men advanced, all trying to get a swing at the frantic Azula, who fought back with a ferocity born from desperation. Grinning at the sight of his prize steadily losing strength, Sog finally walked forward towards the crowd. He loosened his sword from its sheath, growling. "All right, little firebitch, let's see just how long you last."

Azula didn't last long. She was a very proficient fighter without her bending, but her time at the Boiling Rock had taken its toll on her muscles. After a few minutes of continuous and fierce combat, she was breathing heavily. The Rhinos sensed her weakness and pressed in, giving her even less room to maneuver.

Sweeping the feet from underneath yet another Rhino, Azula rolled with her momentum, narrowly avoiding a skewering by another bandit's stab. Twisting her torso, she jumped to her feet and rushed forward, delivering several lightning blows to the man's arm, causing him to drop his sword. Catching the hilt of the weapon before it hit the ground; Azula just barely deflected a spear strike from connecting with her shoulder.

Hacking and slashing, Azula attempted to cut a way through the crowd. Just as she stepped forward to complete a fatal thrust, Azula's bare foot slipped on a loose stone, and she fell to the ground.

Immediately, they were on her. Forsaking swords and other lethal edges, the bandits proceeded to beat her with pole butts and tree-branch clubs, until a word from their boss stopped them. "Easy now, boys, we want her alive. You two, lift her up… I wanna see that pretty face."

The crowd parted for Sog as two large men lifted Azula off of the ground, pinning her arms painfully behind her. Azula could do nothing but glare at her captor, refusing to show him even the slightest bit of fear—fear that was creeping into her, despite her best efforts.

"You put up a good fight, highness. But it's over now. I'll be sending you to the captain tomorrow." The man's ugly grin became, if possible, wider. He pushed back his greasy hair and leered. "But I guess if I can't cut you with this sword," He snickered, throwing his blade carelessly to the ground, "I can still stab you with this one, right, boys?" Sog grabbed his crotch through his pants, and joined his men in uproarious laughter. Azula's eyes widened and her mind raced at potential horrors.

The sound of gaudy laughter was suddenly cut short by Sog's screams of pain. All eyes turned to the leader, and they saw his hands clutching at a bleeding face, bright red talon marks etched deep from forehead to chin, the wounds smoking and filling the air with the acrid smell of burnt flesh. The Rhinos looked wildly for the source of their superior's pain, soon finding it. A phoenix, the size of a raven-eagle, was climbing back into the air for another dive. With a savage scream it swooped, talons stretched, for one of the men holding Azula. The mob broke and scattered, trying to avoid the firebird's claws.

"Get up! Get up, you cowards! It's just a bird! Get up and kill it!" Sog raged, grabbing his sword and swinging wildly at the bird as blood flowed freely down his face. The phoenix fought back, plunging and diving at the man with talons outstretched.

Sog caught a lucky clip with the tip of his sword and sent the juvenile fire construct tumbling to the ground, right at Azula's feet. She knelt down, hands shaking, reaching for the wounded bird. Gritty, calloused hands grabbed her again, and she was hauled to her feet.

Azula struggled as the crying animal kept crawling towards her, weakly chirping and snapping its beak at the man restraining her. With a savage snarl, Sog stepped on the animal's wounded wing, pinning it to the ground as he hefted his sword. There was a savage glint to his eyes, and he seemed not to notice the treads of his boot smoking from the bird's heat.

"Claw at me, will you? I hope you enjoyed it, bird, 'cos it's the last thing you ever did!" Sog plunged the blade through the trapped animal and into the ground beneath it. The raptor erupted into a burst of flame, causing him to fall backwards with a startled cry. The phoenix flared up like it was doused in lamp oil, soon leaving only a clean a pile of ash, surrounding the gleaming blade, stuck deep into the ground.

Azula's eyes were glassy as Sog's men helped him to his feet. With a wave of his hand, the man holding Azula pushed forward, shoving her unceremoniously into the dirt. "Well, that was a nice little fight, my royal bitch." Sog growled, wiping his bloody and burnt face with a grimy sleeve. The mob's firebenders assembled at his shoulders, six in all. They looked at her with carnivorous grins, their palms holding large balls of flame. "But now your bird is dead, your spirit is broken, and your body is mine."

"Whoops! Zero-for-three, Captain Smells-a-lot," a voice called out from the other side of the stream. The firebenders' flames shot from their palms unbidden, racing to figure's waiting hands. The bandits turned, their shock almost palpable. Azula saw him too, and breathed easier, knowing help had arrived.

"The bird isn't dead, it's a phoenix." Mat began crossing the stream, every step forward causing the cool water around him to steam and hiss. "Azula's spent the last five years in a living hell, so I doubt a little run-in with your nasty lot is gonna break her spirit." For every step forward he took, the Rhinos took two back, leaving Azula on the ground between them.

"And if she belonged to anyone," Mat's voice was the quiet before a terrible storm, his gaze hard as flint and sharp as broken glass. "It'd be me."

Mat knelt down in front of Azula, his face softening. "You ok? Can you stand?"

Azula nodded, the cool princess's mask sliding smoothly into place. "I'll be fine, just a little sore tomorrow. The bird?" She tried to make the question sound off-handed, but Mat saw through it.

"Don't worry about the construct, right now we need to deal with these bastards. Come on, up you go." Mat stood, offering his hand to Azula. She took it and the two stood together, eyeing the Rhino mob.

"Musagetes, why am I not surprised?" Sog spat the name like a curse. He glared menacingly across the clearing as his men picked themselves up and gathered behind him—not at all happy their prize had been stolen. "Why don't you do yourself a favor, and leave before we make you?"

"So you're all part of the Rough Rhinos?" Mat asked, brushing off the threat like a falling piece of ember. "Man, fugitive life really isn't suiting you. Really though, shouldn't you think about changing your name? You guys don't even have Rhinos to ride on!" Mat laughed, the tenseness of the situation seemingly lost on him. "But hey, that's what you get for following Mongke and his cronies. I guess stupidity likes to add onto itself."

"We're not as stupid as you think, Phoenix," Sog retorted, giving his men more time to encircle the duo. "Even a lowly grunt like me knows that little fight you had with the fire whelp last week was staged. Nice try, but we knew you were going to try getting her out eventually."

Mat's grin fell imperceptibly. "Your leaders saw through it?"

Sog sneered, pressing his advantage. "Oh, we know everything about you, Musagetes. I've heard the Captain talking to Colonel Mongke when he came to visit. You never thought about why you suddenly started having big ol' important dreams, instead of the Avatar?"

Mat looked unsure. Sog continued, reviling in his opponent's slipping confidence. "We knew you were going to get her, it was just a matter of when." Sog laughed. "We've been in these woods for three days now, just biding our time."

Mat looked at the ground, and Azula could tell they were rapidly losing what little advantage they had. She stepped in, "Whatever the circumstances, it doesn't change the fact that your rabble is outmatched. We broke through an entire prison garrison just yesterday—bugs like you pale in comparison."

"Those were your last words, Bitch. I'll show you who's the bug!" Sog spat, slowly advancing as his men charged ahead of him.

Mat tensed, pulling himself out of his thoughts just in time to take in the odds. Azula assumed the first form of the seven stars—it was good for large groups and open areas. "You're not going to take them all out at once? Like you did with the guards outside of my cell?"

"I was in a volcano, Princess—there was a little more heat there for me to work with."

There was no more time for talk. The bandits were on them. They kept close to each other—covering for and filling in the holes in the other's guard almost instinctively. Azula moved like a coiled spring, lashing out with chops to the collarbone and sharp kicks to the shin, bringing men down left and right. Mat still took no stance— he didn't even push to attack. He let every man who came at him almost land a hit before twisting or shifting away at the last moment and giving the attacker a dose of heat exhaustion.

The two of them bobbed and weaved, ducked and dodged, laying waste to whoever came within reach. Eventually, Azula picked up a fallen Rhino's guandao and changed tactics to breaking every skull, leg, shoulder, or rib she could, crumpling bodies on top of bodies. Mat unconsciously shifted styles with her—grabbing the enemy's weapons in mid-thrust, heating metal swords and catching wooden spear-shafts aflame. Soon his battle-high came into full swing, and he let loose with a running dialogue of taunts, jabs, and jokes.

"Damn, you bastards are foul. Azula probably smelled you before she saw you." Turning, he saw the mob's leader hanging back from the pack, shouting at his men and making sure none of them broke rank. "Hey Soggy! Why are you standing back there? Come join the fun, why don't you."

Narrowly stopping a pike from sweeping into her leg, Azula parried the blow and drove the offending pike into the dirt before whipping her guandao back and breaking a bandit's ribs. "Now isn't exactly the best time for goading, Mat."

"Whaddaya mean, Princess? I'm just trying to lighten the mood," Mat joked, dodging a sword thrust and grabbing the man's wrist. Smoke curled from the seared hand and the bandit fell backwards, screaming.

"Besides, if my witty banter isn't sparking your memory, maybe this will." Mat raked his thumbs across his fingers, ten slender flames appearing atop each finger. Digging in his heel he twisted, spinning with his arms outstretched and throwing ten lines of fire in all directions—sending the mob staggering backwards.

He kept the movement going, snaking a spinning arm around her slender shoulders and dipping her low, holding her with his hand between her shoulder blades. He bent along with the movement, and for a moment their faces were almost touching, their breath mingling in the battle-warmed air. Green eyes held fast to gold, and Azula felt more than heard his whispered words.

"Remember me."

The kiss didn't last more than half a heartbeat, and before Azula had time to react, he had spun her back up and the two were fighting again. As they cleaned up the remaining Rhinos, a familiar warmth spread from Azula's lips to the rest of her body, its heat giving her more energy than all the previous touches combined. She ended the fight strong, sending her enemies sprawling.

But more than that, she remembered.

………………………………………………………………………

"Kuzane! Come on, let's go down to the docks!" One of Kuzane's school friends waved at him from across the plaza. Their lessons had ended for the day and children were rushing out of the schoolhouse, eager to take advantage of the rest of the afternoon.

"The docks?" Kuzane asked, wary of his friend's intentions. "What's there to do down there?"

"There's a new storyteller down at Dockside Tavern. They say he knows every story in the world! Everyone who listens puts a gold piece in a cup, and if you can name a story he can't tell, you get the whole cup!"

Kuzane grinned. A chance at winning money or learning a tale he'd never heard before—what was there to lose?

"Lead the way."

Dockside was a flurry of sights, smells, and activity. The heavy soot and bits of coal from Ironclad Fire Navy ships sprinkled the ground, and sailors left footprints in the ash as if they were walking through dirty snow. The stink of tar and pitch from Earth Kingdom jong vessels mingled with the meaty smells of penguin and seal from inside the bellies of Water Tribe sloops. All around sailors were moving, cursing, sweating and shouting. Kuzane nimbly dodged around two fruit merchants as he moved with his friend to the tavern door.

The first thing Kuzane saw upon entering Dockside Tavern was Storyteller.

He was sitting on a tall stool at the bar, an old man with eyes like coal and the body of a driftwood scarecrow. He was thin and weathered, with thick white hair on his face and no hair on his head. The whiteness of it stood out from his deep brown tan, making him look like a dark-wax candlestick with a white wick. At his feet was a smattering of children, at least twenty of them, all of different ages.

Mournfully, he looked at an empty cup next to him on the bar and cleared his throat. Children surged forward, pressing gold pieces onto the bar. Once they had all been scooped into the mug, Storyteller nodded slightly to the barkeep. "Autumn's wind, please." Deep amber liquid filled and frothed inside the mug, the colors of changing leaves.

Handling the mug with long, slender fingers, Storyteller brought it to his lips. Almost ritualistically he took a small sip, cleared his throat again, and rumbled with a voice like far away thunder, "So, what would everyone like to hear today?"

"The Tale of Two Lovers!"

"Tui and La! I wanna hear about the moon spirits!"

"Storyteller, tell us about the dragons!"

"I wanna hear about the Avatar and the drill!"

"I want to hear the Phoenix and the drill." Kuzane's voice cut through the crowd, his performer's projection serving him well.

"The Phoenix and the drill… not one of the usual tales." Storyteller cleared his throat again, casually casting his gaze across the room until it settled on Kuzane. "Not many know that he was there, the day the Avatar stopped the drill from reaching Ba Sing Se. How did you come to learn that?"

"He told me about it himself," Kuzane boasted, his pride only slightly diminished when he caught his friend rolling his eyes and heard several children's snickers. Kuzane's stories were well known in the village for being outrageous and most often untrue.

"Well, I don't know if I can match a first-hand perspective… but I'll try my best." Storyteller smiled and took a long pull from his drink. "Gather round, you children—gather and hear a tale of pride meeting power, of guile meeting genius. Of Phoenix meeting Princess."

…\/…\/…\/…


	7. Of Drills and Duels

The Avatar Saga—Azula's redemption

Chapter 7: Of Drills and Duels

By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

"_You need know, little Kouros, just who stands before you. I was the Shining one, the wandering and the protector of roads. I was he who watches the heavens, and one of the three Alexicaus. But most of all I was Musagetes, leader of the Nine."_

"…Well that's great, really. Seriously though, could you put some clothes on?"

…\/…\/…\/…

**Ba Sing Se side of the Serpent's Pass—Earth Kingdom 100 ASC. (After Sozin's Comet)—Year of the Monkey**

"I promise, I'll find Appa as fast as I can, I just really need to do this."

"See you in the big city." Sokka grinned, clapping his friend on the shoulder. Toph gave him an affectionate punch, grinning in his general direction.

"Say hi to that big fuzz ball for me."

"You'll find him, Aang."

"I know. Thank you, Katara." Aang prepared his glider, his lemur spreading wing next to him. "You ready, Momo? Let's go!" He took to the skies—the last airbender rushing to his best friend's rescue.

Gliding through the clouds, Aang and Momo circled up and up, riding the thermals till they reached the top of Ba Sing Se's tremendous outer wall. The sun had just reached its peak—and the serene blue sky, specked with pure white clouds, gave Aang hope that he would find his partner soon.

His optimism was cut short however, when he gazed across the horizon and a terrible black machine, bigger than even a Fire Nation Warship, came into his sight. It was headed straight for the wall, and that could only mean one thing.

"Sorry, Momo…" Aang turned to the winged lemur as it landed on his arm, chattering its disappointment. "Appa's gonna have to wait."

………………………………………………

"What's wrong with him? He doesn't look injured." General Sung, one of the Earth Kingdom's Council of Five, and defender of the outer wall, was standing with the Gaang around one of his elite Terra Team troopers, currently being healed by Katara.

After flying back to his friends and rushing them to the great wall, they were met by the eccentric general, and together they had witnessed the Terra Team's embarrassing defeat at the hands of two feminine figures. They were gathered in the wall's infirmary— struggling to come up with a plan to stop the drill.

"His chi is blocked," Katara answered. She looked down into the earth brown eyes of the soldier, the instinctual concern of a healer coming through in her voice. "Who did this to you?"

"Two girls ambushed us," he gasped, each word a struggle. "One of them hit me with a bunch of quick jabs… suddenly I couldn't earthbend, and I could barely move. Then she cart wheeled away."

A spark of recognition lit Katara's eyes, and she turned to Aang. "Ty Lee. She doesn't look dangerous, but she knows the human body and its weak points. It's like she takes you down from the inside."

"OH OOH OOHH OOH OH!" Sokka exclaimed. Jumping to his feet and shooting his hand into the air.

"…Yes?"

"What you just said, that's how we're gonna take down the drill. The same way Ty Lee took down all these big earthbenders."

Toph grinned, catching on to what Sokka was planning. "By hitting its pressure points!"

Aang walked to the window, looking out at the approaching drill. "We'll take it down from the inside."

"Not a bad idea, Sokka. Mind if I help?" a voice came from the doorway. The Gaang turned around to see Mat leaning against the threshold, obviously proud of his well-timed entrance. His dress was simple, a white shirt over a black, longer-sleeved undershirt, along with white pants and Karbatinai sandals. His ever-present grin was different too—much more cocky and less self-aware—the product of coming into his position at the tender age of sixteen.

"Matthias!" Katara smiled. "Where did you come from? We couldn't find you after the siege of the Northern Water Tribe."

"Eh, when I saw the moon come back, I figured you guys had it under control." Mat strode into the room, the assembled earthbenders giving him strange looks. "Besides, I had somewhere else to be. Yours isn't the only world that needs saving, ya know."

"Who's the loudmouth?" Toph asked critically, unsure about her friend's familiarity with the stranger.

"Toph, General Sung, this is Matthias Musagetes. He's a friend," Aang said, bringing Mat into their circle.

The young Mat began to nod at Sung, but from a look to Katara, turned it into a bow. Sung arched an eyebrow—it seemed this boy didn't know even the basics of propriety.

"He helped repel the Fire Nation when they attacked the Northern Water Tribe over the winter." Sokka clapped his friend on the shoulder. "He's not a bender, but he can control fire and stuff."

"…Fire and stuff?"

"You must be this 'blind bandit' I've been hearing about. Is it true Aang here kidnapped you?" Mat turned to the Toph, his grin not faltering upon seeing her stony face. "Wow, I didn't think he had it in him."

"He didn't kidnap me—I came along to teach him. And what makes you think we want your help?"

"…Uhh, sorry? I just figured that since that thing is longer than a football field—"

"What the heck is a football? Where did you even come from? I didn't hear you walk along the wall at all."

"Ahem, children," General Sung cleared his throat, garnering the Gaang's attention. "I hate to interrupt, but do you all recall A GIANT DRILL GETTING READY TO BORE THROUGH MY WALL?!?"

…………………………………………………………

"Once I whip up some cover, you're not going to be able to see, so stay close to me," Toph instructed. They were crouched behind a trench at the bottom of the wall. "Bird-boy? You don't get too close."

"Actually, I was gonna meet you all under the drill." Mat cracked his knuckles and grinned. "I want to try out some new tricks I've learned on those tanks over there."

"What? No. That's not part of the plan."

"Maybe Toph's right, Mat." Aang said, having to speak up over the noise of the drill. "Are you sure you can handle those things?"

"Yeah, I got to absorb a lot of heat during my last job. I'm totally good to go."

"And anything he can do to keep that viewing tower from focusing on us is a good thing," Sokka chimed in.

"Pshh, whatever. Let's just do this." The blind earthbenderjumped out of the trench, concentrating on her element.

"Is she always so… resistive?" Mat whispered to Katara.

"Well, it comes with being an earthbender. Give her some time—she's got to get to know someone before she can get along with them."

An explosion came from above, and the air filled with dust. "COME ON!" Toph yelled, charging into the thick cloud. The gaang followed the blind bender, trusting her feet to guide them. Mat grinned, jumping out of the trench as well. Taking off towards the line of Fire Nation tanks on the other side of the drill, Mat raked his thumbs across his fingers, flames springing to life in his open palms.

"_Sometimes, I really love this job."_

………………………………………………

The gaang emerged from Toph's hole, right beneath the drill. They ran its distance until they came across a gap in its belly.

"Where's your friend?" Toph asked.

As if on cue, Mat came blasting across the ground towards the drill, yelling at the top of his lungs. He had his elbows locked and his arms straight out behind him, and was firing long jets of flame from his palms. He looked like a red-headed fire-arrow, flying just above the ground at a ridiculous speed.

"WHOOOOOO HAAAAAAA!" he sped closer and closer, showing no signs of slowing down. At the last minute, he cut the fire and whipped his arms forward, blasting a huge amount of heat directly in front of him, stopping his motion almost instantaneously and dropping him just a few feet from his friends.

He didn't stay still for long, though—the adrenalin kept him moving. He ran around his friends, intoxicated by his own ability. "GOD DAMN! I forgot how much of a rush that was!" He turned to Aang and the group, horrendously out of breath and grinning like a madman. "Tanks're gone, no need to thank me."

Katara fixated him with a critical eye. "Was the victory lap really necessary, though?"

"Oh Katara, how you wound me. You know how fragile my ego is—I've got to do something to keep my spirits up."

"Uhh, guys? We're kind of on a time crunch here," Sokka said, gesturing to the hulking machine steadily moving above them.

"Sokka's right—let's go!" Aang jumped into the hole and hung from a pipe, his arms dangling. He helped Katara, then Sokka into the machine. Toph didn't move.

"Toph, come on!" Sokka poked his head out of the drill.

"No way am I going in that metal monster. I can't bend in there! I'll try to slow it down out here."

"Okay, good luck." Sokka turned his head. "Mat, you coming?"

"Sorry, I've gotta catch my breath. I think I'll stay out here to help slow it down, get to know the Terra Terror over there."

Mat managed to get the last part out before a column of stone surged beneath his feet and sent him flying.

Sokka and Aang grinned at each other and left, disappearing into the drill.

Toph squared her feet. With a heave she sent a pillar of earth into the drill, trying to stop its forward motion. Grunting, she was pushed back from the force of the machine. She shot a glare over to Mat, who was panting on the ground, seemingly oblivious to her effort.

"…So… got any good stories about Aang and Katara?"

"…ugh… shut up…"

……………………………………………………………

"Umm… Azula? Are our tanks supposed to be all twisty?" Ty Lee had her head pressed to the drill's periscope. "They look cute, but I don't think they'll work with their tops all melted like that."

She was in the drill's control room with her two friends. Mai sat next to her sideways in a high-backed chair, her legs flung over one arm. She wore a bored expression, and was passing the time by twirling two stilettos between her fingers. Azula was watching the progress the drill had made towards the wall, still rolling the nagging mystery of the giant dust cloud that had appeared minutes before around her steel trap of a mind. She stood tall, cold and calculating—an imposing figure to each and every officer on the bridge, despite her young age. She whipped her head around at Ty Lee's question, her cool mask showing hairline cracks—revealing slivers of red rage beneath.

"What? Get out of my way." Azula pushed her friend off of the viewport and looked through the periscope. "First that dust cloud, now fourteen tanks are reduced to slag! War Minister, I am not impressed."

War Minister Qin paled, the thought of the Fire Lord's daughter acting on her displeasure not appealing in the least. And he knew that as the commanding officer on the drill, he was in just the unfortunate position to take the brunt of that displeasure. "I-I assure you, your Majesty, this machine is unstoppable. No force alive could stop us."

"We'll see. Keep your eyes on this periscope, Qin. The tanks mean nothing if the drill doesn't succeed."

Azula spun on her booted heel, exiting the control room and leaving behind an extremely nervous War Minister, her two friends falling in line behind her. "Let's go, girls, we're going hunting."

………………………………………………

"And then, Sokka asked for my advice about what to do with Yue and I was all like, 'Come on, dude. You've got Suki waiting for you back on Kyoshi, leave the ice-princess alone.' And he was all, 'Nooo, man, I might never see Suki again. Besides, I really feel this connection to Yue, you know?' and I just sighed, and said 'Fine but jus—"

"Ugh. Hah…Hah…Mat, I know we haven't known each other that long, but I want you to listen carefully…" Toph gritted her teeth. "I. Don't. Care."

"Well fine. What do you want to talk about, then?" Mat was lounging on the ground, idly watching Toph struggle with her stone pillar.

"GAH! I don't want to talk; I want to stop this thing! And as annoying as you are, it would be really nice if you got off your butt and helped!"

"Okay, okay, sorry." Mat got up and dusted himself off. "Here, put that rock-stick away and take a break. I'll hold it for a while." Toph just grunted and kept holding her pillar in place, turning her head and sensing what her peculiar new acquaintance was up to.

Mat snapped his hands and rapidly opened his palms, forming two spheres of intense plasma. He pushed the two together, doubling its size. Carefully, he folded the sphere in on itself, again and again, until what was originally the size of a Kuai Ball had been compressed into what looked and felt like a miniature sun—barely the size of a lychee nut.

He turned to Toph and tried to cock a grin. She couldn't see his smile, but she could feel his body almost shaking apart with the stress of what he was doing. "I just learned this little number before I got here—It's called Metacreativity. Please, hold your applause."

With care, he pushed the newly made fission-ball into the ground, ahead of one of the drill's treads. The ball sunk into the stony ground, liquefying it and turning the surrounding area into magma. Toph dropped her pillar as she watched the tread sink into the molten ground.

"If you could give me a hand… I can control the heat, but have trouble with the earth." Mat said, gesturing to the pool of magma. His brow was perspiring, and the sweat was quickly evaporating off his skin, almost making it look like he was disappearing into steam.

Toph nodded, and together they moved the searing, viscous rock around the drill's tread, covering it. Mat put his hand to the magma, quickly absorbing the heat out from the rock. Rapidly cooling, the end result was an entire tread fused together with several feet of cold, solid stone.

**"****That should hold it for a while. Now come on, tell me about yourself****." **Mat turned to Toph, panting from the effort of drawing up that much heat and trying his best to suppress the ingrained bumptiousness from his demeanor. Toph smiled in spite of herself, feeling his nervous heartbeat. "Aang, Katara and Sokka are the only people in the world I know… and glad I'm to see they've made a new friend."

Toph was about to say something, when a sharp crack caused them both to turn their attention back to the tread. Fissures had begun forming along the stone, quickly widening and splintering, much to Mat's uncomfortable surprise. Within a few seconds, the tread broke free, sending shards of rock exploding in all directions. Toph quickly brought up a wall of stone around herself and Mat, saving both of them from the lethal debris

Mat turned to her, his eyes wide and his body shaking. Toph turned back, grinning at his terrified heartbeat. "Tell you what," she punched him in the arm. "Let's do that to a couple more treads, and then we'll get all girly and share secrets and braid each other's hair, deal?"

Mat laughed at the dig and cracked his knuckles, taking a deep breath and pulling more plasma into existence. "Deal."

……………………………………………

"Good work, team Avatar!" Sokka cheered as Katara and Aang weakened the last brace inside the drill's inner workings. "Now Aang just needs to—Gaaaugh!" Sokka flinched as a blue fireball came whizzing past his face, almost taking off his nose. The three turned to see Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee rushing onto another brace above them. Azlua punched and sent another fireball hurtling down, which Aang deflected with a shield of wind.

Ty Lee's eyes found Sokka's. She raised her chest, giving more definition to her slight build—the natural flirt in her going on automatic. "Wow, Azula you were right. It is the Avatar… and friends."

Sokka barely managed to get a "Hey" out before his sister dragged him away. The three raced for the cover of a maintenance tunnel, Aang throwing a gust of air behind him to stall the dive-bombing Ty Lee.

"Guys, get out of here! I know what I need to do," Aang called, splitting from his friends and making his way to the top of the drill.

"Wait," Katara threw her water skin to the Avatar. "You need this water more than I do."

The group split up, closely followed by Azula and her friends. She kept it hidden, but Azula was furious. They were on _her_ drill, trying to stop _her_ plans. She had had enough of this child-monk and his friends.

"Follow them," she commanded. "The Avatar is mine."

…………………………………………………

Toph and Mat sat back-to-back, catching their breaths. They had managed to fuse several more treads, slowing the drill considerably. However it kept moving forward, despite their best efforts.

"Hah…hah…man…I really shouldn't have wasted all that energy flying over the ground like that…" Mat gasped. "There's got… hah… got to be a better way to travel… I'm… hah… pretty much tapped out. How much longer…hah… before they stop this thing?"

"I dunno, it can't be much long—wait, do you feel that?" Toph straightened up, looking back towards the end of the drill.

"Not all of us have Daredevil sight, Toph."

"What? Oh, never mind, just look back here." Toph grabbed Mat's head and pointed it in the right direction. "I could have sworn I just felt Katara and Sokka come outta the back of this thing."

Recognition dawned on her as she felt two familiar bodies pick themselves up, wiping off slime from the slurry expulsion pipe they just fell from. "It is them!" she frowned. "I don't feel Aang anywhere. Where could he be?"

"You go back there and help them, I know where Aang is." Mat stood and held his hand out to help Toph up. As she took it, she was surprised to feel warmth flow from his hand through hers. A blush tinted her cheeks, and she looked up at Mat with a surprised expression. He just smiled, embarrassed. "Yeah, sorry. I Don't exactly have complete control of my powers yet. It freaked Sokka the hell out first time we high-fived."

******Realizing he was still holding her hand, Mat quickly released it and **ran from underneath the drill, hiding a growing blush he forgot Toph could sense. Spying a maintenance ladder, he moved for it, calling over his shoulder, "And Toph? …Thanks for talking with me." He used a short burst to jump onto the ladder, slowly making his way to the top of the drill.

Toph turned and began running to the back of the drill, a small smile gracing her young face.

_"Any time, Bird-boy… any time." _

…………………………………………

"What I'd give to be a metalbender," Aang said, wiping sweat from his brow. He had scarred the outer hull significantly, and had just a few more minutes of work left before he could deliver the final blow. From his shoulder, he heard Momo chatter, and he turned, his eyes filling with the wave of blue flame rushing towards him. He brought up a swift current of wind, but it wasn't necessary as the torrent of flame abruptly changed direction and swept to the side, over the edge of the drill. Into Mat's waiting palm.

"Looks like you could use some cover, Aang." Mat finished climbing up the ladder, feeling slightly energized from the fireball's heat. He stood between the Avatar and a surprised Azula. Aang nodded and turned back to his objective, bending the water rhythmically against the drill's thick hull.

The two fighters circled each other, each hunting for a weakness. Mat was the first one to break the silence. "So I guess we say names now, right? I'm Matthias Musagetes, the White Phoenix."

"Charmed I'm sure." Azula replied, sarcastically.

"…And you are?"

"As if you didn't know." Azula sunk her Xing Yi stance, lifting her arms and focusing on her breathing.

"No, I don't. I'm not exactly from around here and—" Mat had lifted his hands up as a sign of peace, his palms open.

It was the opening Azula needed.

She pounced, flipping head-over-heel, and sent a furious ring of blue flames at the frozen Matthias. With a slight smile, Mat pushed his palms forward. The ring condensed and split into two streams of flame, diverting from its original path and again flying into his waiting hands. "Thanks, I needed a pick-me-up."

Azula didn't know how he did it, but he had somehow neutralized her bending. Worse, she realized, this urchin was actually better off for it. She briefly wondered about the potential in such an ability, then decided it didn't matter. He was still an obstacle, just one more thing to overcome on her path to power. And even without her bending, Azula was still a force be feared—more than capable of taking a single fighter.

She chose a different tactic. Azula charged forward, quickly closing the distance between her and her opponent. Bending blasts of fire from her feet, she leapt high in the air and swung her flattened hand down, intent on bringing it crashing between Mat's neck and shoulder. She allowed herself a smile—she had attacked before her opponent had been able to adopt a stance. She'd end this in one blow and then get back to stopping the Avatar.

Mat watched Azula charge, following her movements with seeming sluggishness. It was like he had been taught—give his opponents a false sense of superiority, and they'll make a mistake.

In reality, his mind was moving a mile a minute—he saw the heat of the electrical impulse move from Azula's brain, down her spine, and to her legs and hand. The thick padding of her armor made it difficult, but before she even left the ground, Mat had figured precisely how high she would jump, where she would land, and just how hard her bladed hand was meant to come crashing down onto his collarbone.

And so the hand came crashing down. Just inches before it connected with devastating force, Mat dropped his shoulder and twisted slightly, watching with a grin as it sailed harmlessly by. Azula allowed herself a split-second of disbelief, before she landed on the ground and spun her leg in a fast arc. Mat's grin was quickly erased as her boot caught a glancing blow to his side before he had even finished dodging her first attack, and the battle began in earnest.

The two of them moved faster than most could follow, shifting and flowing around each other in a graceful, lethal dance. They moved like liquid mercury sliding on a table—their light steps spanning the length of the drill. Both fighters never moved farther than an arm's length from the other, and they blocked off the outside world, bringing their entire focus to the fight at hand.

Eventually, Mat's fatigue became apparent. Even if he could read her movements, it was getting harder and harder to react fast enough. He tried to hide it with breathless quips and requests for her name, but Azula saw through the ploy—reading him like she read everyone—and pressed her advantage.

Her pointed nails raked his face, and he stumbled backwards, breathing heavy. She spread her stance and moved her arms in a wide circle, first one, then the other. Static energy snapped and crackled around her, gathering at her blood-stained fingertips. She stabbed forward, the lightning arching from her hands to its target, sizzling with heat, moving straight into to his heart.

The lightning connected, and moments later, a clap of thunder echoed off the great stone wall of Ba Sing Se. Azula walked over to the smoking body, prodding it with the curved tip of her boot.

"I'm Azula, Crown Princess of the Fire Nation. Tell that to whomever you meet in the Spirit World, peasant." She turned her attention on the Avatar and had started towards him when she heard the unmistakable sound of a very human, very alive, chuckle behind her. She rounded on the voice and saw Mat standing, his grin wide as ever. His short hair was standing on end, and he regarded the scorch mark on his chest gingerly, patting at the smoking hole. Aside from that, however, he looked fine—energized, even.

"A princess, huh? Well, I'm honored to be in the presence of royalty. Ready for round two?"

Then the two were back together, trading blows and seeming likenothing less than two sides of a coin. Mat's cheerful grin was contrasted by Azula's mask of cold fury. He was fueled by instinct—giving into the moment completely, allowing his opponent's movements dictate his actions—everything was reflexive, spontaneous. She was fueled by thought—planning every move five steps beforehand, always probing for a weakness, trying to find the chinks in his armor. Every blow traded was remembered, categorized, and put towards the next attack.

They were completely opposing, yet balanced.

Mat jerked his head to the side, dodging Azula's fist but straining his neck in doing so. The movement was minute and cocky, Mat had used it before to frustrate and stall his opponents.It didn't work this time—Azula never got frustrated—and he took a solid hit to the gut for his trouble. Mat stumbled backwards, rubbing his stomach and grunting in pain.

"I gotta say—you're better than almost anyone I've ever fought before. I have to work harder against you than I did against Zhao's entire navy!"

Azula advanced, keeping up the pressure. "You were the one who destroyed the Northern Navy?"

Mat launched himself over her leg sweep. Landing behind her, he fellinto a roll—one that passed just beneath her swiping arm. "Naw—Aang did that. I just stalled for time while he did his Spirit World thing. It's not my place to win the big fights; I'm just here to help keep the party going."

Azula thought on this as she pursued the tumbling figure. It seemed he held loyalties to whomever could provide the best fight. Azula kept her face passive, yet she felt a small surge of satisfaction—she had found another tool to be used, another instrument to further her goals. He merely needed to be convinced… or pressed into service.

"Why aid the Avatar, then? You could fight all you want if you served the Fire Nation."

"Why, Princess, I'm flattered. But I enjoy the whole underdog archetype. You know, David and Goliath? "

Hhmm, intimidation then. "And just how is a juvenile demi-god and his afternoon adventures supposed to bring down the mightiest nation in the world? He'd have to defeat my father, and even I pale in comparison to his power. Your Avatar really has no chance of success. Underdog or not, he will be crushed, and you along with him. Better you come now, willingly, than in chains."

"You know, he's more your Avatar than mine; after all, you live here. Besides, your daddy's just a little too passionate about world domination for my taste. Heh… and speaking of passion—" Mat shifted unexpectedly, his foot sweeping forward. The surprising tactic threw Azula off balance—it was his first non-reflexive movement of the fight.

Jumping at the chance, Mat twisted his foot around hers and Azula falling backwards. He quickly curled his arm around her slight waist, and bringing his knee down and to the side, spun her into a low dip. Before she even knew what was happening, Matthias Musagetes brought his face close, and kissed her.

It was completely unexpected, and for a moment Azula was stunned into inaction. When their lips touched, it felt like a spark traveled from her ruby painted lips through her entire body, sprinting across every nerve, electrifying her with unexpected emotion. His heat raced through her while passion, curiosity, rage, embarrassment, and a gambit of other emotions swirled and collided in the pit of Azula's stomach. Her hand balled into a fist, and over that fist, a blue flame sprung to life.

But before she could even start to swing that fist, Mat had spun her back up and was dancing away—his step light and his face split into a wide smile. It was all she could do at first, to just stare at him and his self-assured grin, her cheeks burning hotly.

Matthias put his hands in his pockets, enormously pleased with himself. Behind him, Aang was dive-bombing a stone spike he had wedged into the metal of the drill, driving it deep into the inner machinery. Slurry sprung from the rivets of the contraption and surged towards the two figures. Right before the muck connected, Mat got one last repartee out—his mouth billowing steam as he laughed.

"Well Princess… was it good for you?"

…\/…\/…\/…

Mm'kay, chapter 7! the longest so far, but I hope you all struggled through it. In the future, I think I'll put little "retcons" like this one into one-shot form as stories of their own. I don't want to take up too much main-storyline-time with them.

So what do you think? Was Mat a little shit as a teenager or what? Yeah, all that power at such a young age gave him an ego rivaling Ozai's. BTW, anyone with time enough to do a google search should be able to figure out who at least one of the speakers is in the little story-before-a-story. OMG SPOILAHS!


	8. Of Enemies and Enigmas

The Avatar Saga—Azula's redemption  
Chapter 8: Of Enemies and Enigmas.  
By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

_"With the other gods I lived on Olympus, and the times were good. Eventually our adherents faded, and with them our influence on the world. I was one of the fortunate—faith in me continued under the children of Romulus. There I was called Phoebus, and my power endured."_  
"This is a history lesson for the insane, isn't it?"

**The town of Yi Jing—outer Fire Nation, 105 ASC. (After Sozin's Comet) –Year of the Ox**

"I have heard enough." The speaker wasn't loud, but he might as well have shouted. When Storyteller worked, any interruption was like chewing a grain of sand in a mouthful of rice. From door of the tavern, two men in black armor came toward the bar, one tall and heavily bearded, one short with blood red Yu Yan war paint around his eyes and face. As they walked, Kuzane saw the feared insignia emblazoned over their hearts. Rough Rhinos.

Worse—behind them walked another man, taller than anyone Kuzane had ever seen. He moved without a sound, save for the dull thumping of his Iron leg and the metallic squeaking from his prosthetic arm. A strange tattoo adorned his forehead, in the likeness of a third eye.

Kuzane wasn't the only one who saw the men. Children were trickling out the door. The older ones tried to appear casual, but the youngest broke into a run before they got outside. Against common sense, two boys stayed—Kuzane and his terrified school friend.

"I believe we have all heard enough," the taller of the two Rhinos said with a quiet severity. He was barrel-chested, with small hazel eyes that stared out from deep sunken sockets. A long spear was strapped to his back, adding to his already fearsome profile. Quietly, Kuzane's friend slipped out. "You seem to know valuable information, old man. You'll be coming with us. Won't he, Vachir?"

"Yes, Kahchi, I believe he will," the other Rhino spoke. He had a Yu Yan helmet, and his quiver bristled with black-fletched arrows. He signaled to the metal-limbed mute. "Bind him."

The silent man did so with rough efficiency. Storyteller endured the whole thing amiably, without saying a word. The two watched their associate tie Storyteller's wrists, then turned away, as if dismissing the man from their minds. They took a long look around the room, their inspection finally ending with the bald, aproned man behind the bar.

"F-Fire's heat warm you!" the owner of Dockside tavern stammered, his voice much too loud in the quiet of the room.

"It does," Kahchi said simply. He took another long look around the room. Finally he turned his head to the archer who stood back from the bar. "Vachir, would a fine place such as this be hiding useful informants from our organization?"

"Anything is possible, Kahchi."

"Ahh," the spearmansaid softly and looked slowly around the room, once again ending with an inspection of the man behind the bar.

"C-Can I offer your honors a drink? If it be pleasing?" the owner offered quickly.

There was only silence.

"I mean… a drink for you and your soldiers. A fine barrel of rice wine? Sure I had no idea he had such tales to tell. If I knew it was of interest, I'd have come straight to your honors…" his voice broke, leaving the room suddenly quiet. He swallowed, the dry click of his throat reaching all the way to Kuzane by the door.

"A generous offer," Kahchi said finally.

"Very generous," echoed Vachir.

"However, strong drink sometimes tempts men to wicked actions."

"Wicked," Vachir whispered.

"And as a captain, I can't knowingly give my men that opportunity. I must refuse." Kahchi's voice dripped sublime regret.

"You would think," Storyteller's voice rolled out like buzzard-wasp honey, "deserters like you would be more concerned with the Fire Lord finding them than with detaining the elderly and terrifying honest men."

Turning, the Rhino Captain snatched a clay cup off the bar and dashed it against Storyteller's head, shattering it. "Do not speak in my presence!" he said. "You know nothing!"

Storyteller shook his head a little to clear it. A trickle of blood worked its way down his driftwood face, seeping into his white beard. He seemed to address the air in front of him. "You should run, Kuzane. I have friends who can help me, but there's nothing you can do here. Go."

******Since he wasn't looking at the boy when he spoke, there was a moment of confusion****.** Kahchi gestured and the silent man struck Storyteller a blow to the back of the head. His eyes rolled back, and his head lolled forward. Kuzane slipped out the door, onto the street.

He took Storyteller's advice, and was in an alleyway before they had even left the bar.

…………………………………………………………

"Hah Ha! Hot damn I love a good fight!" Azula and Mat stood amid a field littered with groaning bodies. Those conscious were softly voicing their pain, the best off trying to crawl away. Matthias turned to Azula, the high of battle dulling his senses and his power almost completely tapped. "So, Princess, was it good for yo—"

Azula's open palm made contact with his cheek before he had completely turned to face her. He saw stars, while she stood there quietly seething.

"Oooww… so I guess you remember now, huh?" Mat beat a hasty retreat back across the stream, Azula throwing punches and kicks with ferocity.

"You conceited, puerile, arrogant…peasant! You're the boy from the drill! The Avatar's friend. You… you kissed me! Right in the middle of our fight you had the gall to kiss the Crown Princess of the Fire Nation! How dare you even show your face to me after all that you've done?"

"Oh, so you remember more than the drill, huh? All those other times too?"

Azula paused. Her memory was suddenly jogged—images previously blocked came flooding forth. With a primal growl, Azula advanced again, her voice dangerously low. "Oh, now I remember. You were there in the catacombs, when Zuko and I defeated the Avatar. Our vacation at Ember Island, you were there too. And you were at my brother's escape of the Boiling Rock!"

"Don't forget the invasion of your palace, Princess—I fought with all those elite troops you had stationed there." Mat quipped, immediately regretting it as several lightning blows sent him stumbling into the stream.

"And every time we fought, you'd end it the same way! You'd…you'd…"

"Merely my—oof. My way of showing appreciation for dueling such a skilled combatant." Mat was cut off when Azula's leg sweep sent him crashing into the frigid water.

He crab-walked, stumbling over both the slippery ground and his rushed apology.

"Alright, hey, I'm sorry, okay? I was young and stupid and drunk with power and you were pretty and I—"

Mat flinched as Azula lashed out once more. He opened his eyes to see her foot between his legs, inches away from a very sensitive spot. He looked at her unreadable face, then quailed as she brought the foot up and in-between his pants. Hard. He gave a sound, halfway between a whimper and a whine, and lay there in the stream for several minutes. Eventually he regained some semblance of composure, and slowly picked himself up off the ground, wincing.

"What can we do to them?" Azula had turned back to the defeated Rhinos, suddenly finding herself with a store of pent up aggression, and desperately wanting to vent.

"Ahhh, let's just leave 'em." Mat dried his clothes with a flash of heat, still cautious but fairly confident the danger had passed. "When we get back to the palace, I'll tell your brother where we found them, and he'll send some troops to root them out."

Azula took a moment, channeling her anger out in deep breaths. With deliberate restraint, she spoke. "And what makes you think I'm going back to the palace?"

Mat cocked his head. "You heard Sog. Somehow, they know my fight with Zuko was a ruse. They were prepared for us, anticipated our breakout. We've got to go back and re-group, hope Sokka comes up with a better plan. Besides, I don't want both your brother's forces and whoever these people are out hunting us."

"What do you mean, 'Whoever these people'? We know who they are—Fire Nation Military deserters."

"I've got a feeling they're just the tip of the iceberg." Mat drew Sog's sword from the firebird's ashes. He hefted the weapon before throwing it to Azula. "Look at this sword, tell me what you think about it."

Azula caught the blade by its hilt, knowing volumes just by its weight. "This is an Earth Kingdom sword. It's relatively clean, only just starting to rust… Sog got it after the war, he couldn't keep a sword like this in good shape for any length of time." She turned the sword over, inspecting the seal at the base of the blade. "It's a master's sword, uniquely made."

Matt nodded. "Which means he must have got it from someone high within the Earth Kingdom military, because merchants sure as shit don't sell weapons like these." Mat watched as Azula roughly pulled the scabbard from Sog's unconscious form. She stifled the bandit's protest with another kick before sheathing the sword and then shouldering it. "I think we've got enemies on all fronts, and worse, I think they're all working together. That's why we're heading back, Princess. To come up with a new plan of attack."

Azula crossed her arms under her breasts, fixing Matthias with her hardest stare. "Obviously Zuzu's peace isn't as whole as he and the Avatar think it is. Now what happens if I say I'm not going with you?"

"Then I'll respect your wishes, let you go, and probably get myself killed trying to stop every possible person who would do you harm before they find you." Mat looked up from the bird's ashes, returning Azula's hard eyes. His light humor was gone; there was steel in his voice, as unyielding as her new weapon. Azula knew her fate was sealed, and hated it. Still, she knew Mat would do just as she promised, and despite how angry she was, she didn't want her fresh start marred by sending a man to his death. She found some small comfort, however, in sensing remorse behind Mat's gruff tone.

"We have to cut this problem off soon, or else it will just escalate and innocents will get hurt."

"What do I care if some villagers get their houses raided?"

"Well, you're still the princess. Doesn't part of your vaunted mandate of heaven come from your protection of the people?"

"Mandate of heaven was thrown out the minute I landed in Boiling Rock, Mat. Besides, I've never cared for the peasantry—I don't need the approval of the unwashed masses to rule."

Mat sighed, tired of her confrontational attitude. "Listen—The Rough Rhinos used to be just five guys. Now they're a sizable and organized criminal organization, and I've got no doubt that their leader is one of the guys working to plunge this world back into chaos. We've got to stop them, and according to my dreams, both you and your mother factor into this whole conflict."

"You mean your dreams, which may or may not be true? Or even your own?"

Mat's jaw tightened, and he spoke through the growing doubt in his voice. "Those dreams were real. The things I saw…I felt…they have to be real."

Azula turned away, refusing to argue. After a while, she helped Mat gather the scattered remains of their food and supplies. Eventually, the two came together around the ashes of Azula's phoenix.

"…It died saving me…"

"Oh, it didn't die. But I was impressed it swooped down for you like that. The most I can ever get outta these birds is help delivering a message."

"If it's not dead, then how—"

"Princess, simple constructs are one thing, but when I make phoenixes, I make them to last." Matthias removed errant sticks and pebbles from the pile of ashes, tossing them aside and squatting on the ground. "Listen close. Any time this guy goes all burn and smolder on you, just remove any foreign objects from his remains, then give him a little spark of heat and…"

Mat snapped his hand, and placed the flame sitting over his thumb into the ashes. The pile of soot began to glow a dull orange, then red, then finally a pure white. The ashes burnt away completely, leaving behind the small form of the phoenix, back to its newborn state. It looked up at Azula and peeped happily, waddling over to her bare feet. She bent and scooped the firebird into her arms, smiling as it voiced its pleasure at being held. Mat shook his head with a rueful smile.

"Simply amazing. It's a good thing for Sog he attacked you when he did. If he had waited till nightfall that bird would have been triple the size. They grow fast. You gonna name it?"

"…Fenghuang."

Mat nodded in approval. "Virtue, duty, grace, faith, and mercy. Something to aspire to, I suppose." He ignored Azula's sour glare. "I'm pretty sure it's a girl, too. Or at least, as much of a girl that a metacreated plasma-bird can be."

The firebird swiveled its head to its creator, clacking its beak together sharply as if to admonish him. Then giving one last chirp to Azula, it took off into the air, rising on the afternoon's thermals and soaring out of sight.

"Well, we'd better get moving. That village I got food from isn't much farther away by foot; we can reach it and get a balloon to the capital."

Azula nodded, and the Phoenix and the Princess walked together, traveling to the first of many places, on the first of many days.

_Here ends episode 3__  
__Ανδ Σο τ__ἑ__ αδυεντυρε βεγινς...τ__ἑ__ φιρστ μυσε φινδς ιτ'ς Φοενιξ..._  
…\/…\/…\/…


	9. Of Baths and Beginnings

The Avatar Saga—Azula's redemption  
Chapter 9: Of Baths and Beginnings  
By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

"So what happened when Rome fell? When those barbarians sacked the place?"

"_The Empire's fall brought more loss for the Olympians. I knew not what happened to my brothers or sisters, my Mother or Father. Even my twin, Artemis who is Selene who is Diana, was lost to me. But worse than all these tragedies was when I found that my flock was lost—that the nine had scattered themselves for the first time."_

_Here begins Episode 4_

_Ω__ἑ__ρε μυστεριες αρισε, βονδς αρε ρεφρεσ__ἑ__δ, ανδ τασκς αρε γιυεν._

…\/…\/…\/…

"…Well, this is…unsettling."

"Quite. I thought you would have trained your men better than this."

Kahchi stood with Vachir and the Combustion Man, surveying Sog and his bandits. Soft moans floated through the air, and the captain's Komodo Rhinos circled the camp, snapping their razor-sharp teeth at anyone trying to wander off.

The bandits were beaten, bruised, and a few were still concussed. Several of the more alert were huddled together, speaking in worried, hushed tones. Their eyes shifted from the indomitable Kahchi to their slovenly leader Sog, who had prostrated himself on the ground in front of his captain, begging for mercy.

"I-I'm sorry, Captain. We had the bitch—er, sorry… the Princess, taken care of. But then the Phoenix showed up and… and we couldn't beat them both."

"You were instructed to subdue Azula and escape quietly. Not wait around for the outsider to appear. Had I known you were more concerned about…satisfying yourself than completing my objectives, I would have killed you and your men the first time you came crawling into my camp."

"I suppose I was wise in not taking on a company of my own," Vachir's voice whistled like a loosed arrow, while the end of his statement bit as if piercing an opponent's heart. "I don't have to deal with such…inadequacy."

"Mind yourself Vachir. See to it our guest is resting easily, hmm?"

Vachir snorted, moving to check on the unconscious man slung over the back of his Rhino. Storyteller was bound and gagged, the wound on his head dry and cracking. As his bonds were tightened he moaned against his gag, his eyes briefly fluttering open before falling closed again.

Meanwhile, Sog panted like a wounded beast—one who knew its life depended on its master's whim. "Please, Captain, I beg you—tell us what we can do. Tell us how we can regain your favor."

Kahchi let the man cower for several minutes, turning to look over the disgusting lot. His eyes passed over each bandit—none could meet his gaze, though they all felt his hard eyes upon them. The air in the camp became still, as if everyone was waiting with bated breath.

"…Vachir," Khachi offhandedly addressed his working comrade, "How much blood did Hama say she needed in order to perform the restoration ritual?"

Vachir's lips pressed into a thin smile. Never once looking up from his task he answered. In a voice loud enough to pale their dirty and blood-stained faces, he sealed the mob's doom. "About this much, I'd say."

"Hhmm… Sog, your last duty will be to write a letter to Mistress Hama, explaining that she should meet us at Crescent Island on the next full moon. She'll have her sacrifices, and we'll have her power in taking the Sage's temple once and for all. After that, you will keep your men's blood safe and warm. Then you will join them in the barrel once Hama arrives."

Ignoring Sog's waxen face, Kahchi motioned to the Combustion Man, silently waiting at his side. "You may begin—but we need their blood, so be delicate. No explosions."

The man nodded once, then moved about the camp—dealing death with a practiced and efficient ease. The men screamed, wept, and those that could tried to flee. All were caught, however, before they made it to the cover of the trees. None were left alive.

……………………………………

"People are staring… did we have to come here?"

"They're staring at me, not you. And yes, we had to come here. You need a wash and clothes, and since you won't get on my back to travel, we've gotta take a balloon back to the capital."

Mat and Azula had made it to the village. It was little more than a small avenue of buildings lining a simple cobbled street. The road led up to Zahra's Inn—the one place travelers could rest and restock on this part of Capital Island.

They were walking close together, conversing in low voices while men and women around them slowed from their daily business and watched the two pass. Some eyed the newcomers with curiosity, while others seemed to recognize at least one of them, and followed their movements with what seemed to be apprehension.

Without her bending Azula felt exposed, weak, and vulnerable. She hated it. She had hoped that after leaving prison her feelings of powerlessness would decline, but now more than ever she knew she had little to no control of her immediate future. It made her irritable, and she vented in the only way she knew how.

"What makes you think we're even going to find transport in this slum? I passed cleaner villages in the worst parts of the Earth Kingdom; Zuzu has really let the Nation slide." She glowered at a man sweeping his porch. He quickly shifted his gaze. "And they're staring at _me_, I can feel it."

"Ahh, it's not that bad. And they might be looking at you, but it's me they recognize. I've been here before, remember? In fact—"

Mat's sentence was undercut by the sudden delighted screams of children. In a blur, the youngest members of the village besieged Mat, knocking him to the ground and asking a flurry of questions.

"Mister Matthias you came back! Wanna play Hog Monkeys?"

"My Mama says you came into town last night, why didn't you stay at Zahra's?"

"Where're Aang and Katara? I wanna see waterbending!"

"Whoa, whoa!" Mat laughed, trying to stand with children climbing all over him. Azula looked on, her face shifting between aversion and curiosity. "Easy on the haori—it's not gonna stay white if you keep tackling me into the dirt!"

"Mister Matthias? Who's this lady? Hey lady, who are you?" One child, a girl with dark brown hair, stood looking at Azula. The girl couldn't have been older than seven or eight; she still clutched a home-made doll to herself unconsciously. She spoke to Azula with a brash lack of respect only someone as innocently naive as a child, like herself, could do. Azula almost told the girl that she had better things to do than answer the questions of juvenile serfs when another voice, a much older one, rose above the children's chatter.

"Yes. I think we'd all like to know just what you are doing here, Fire-Snatcher." A stout, severe man with a stooped back and sour expression came forward— behind him followed what appeared to be the village elders, looking over and around him at the two newcomers. Mothers hurriedly pulled children away, quietly hushing complaints and protests. A tense silence stretched on, and Mat imperceptibly moved to shield Azula.

"Mayor Xi, listen. I'm not sure what version of the story has reached here, but yes, Zuko and I did have a fight in the Palace last week," Mat began. "However, it was an act—to throw our enemies off guard. Unfortunately they saw thorough the ruse, so I'm on my way back to the Palace so the two of us can clear things up."

The Mayor clicked his tongue. "Oh really? Travelers coming through the inn have been saying all manner of things—that you destroyed half the Palace for no reason. That you beat the Lady Mai almost to death, and was only stopped from killing her when the Fire Lord found you. They're saying Lord Zuko called down thunder and lightning, making you flee Capital city. Some say you're to be arrested on sight." The Elders nodded in support, murmuring other rumors that had been circulating over the past week.

Mat smiled, trying his best to disarm the situation. "Hey now, does that really sound like me? I've never laid a hand on Mai. And if I did, I'm pretty sure Zuko wouldn't be content to just let me escape. Come on—wasn't it Aang, Katara and I who kept your inn from burning to the ground?"

"After your Water Tribe savage set it on fire in a drunken rage!" one of the Elders exclaimed.

"Hey, Sokka basically invented balloon travel, so he can hardly be called a savage. And give the guy a break—it was is first time with a flagon of fire whiskey. Besides, I heard nothing but thanks from Zahra after everything was said and done."

"And that is the only reason you're not being ran out of town, boy," The Mayor spoke again, his eyes hard. "If it weren't for her, you and your little friend wouldn't have gotten halfway down Main Street. Get yourselves to the inn; you're welcome there, but not here. Zahra will have everything your friend needs, and after you get it we want you gone, understand?"

"Perfectly, Mayor Xi. And I hope you'll think better of me once I get back to Capital city and Zuko and I clear things up."

With a grunt, the Elder bowed stiffly, his long, bony hands forming the customary flame and closed fist. "We will see. Fire's heat warm you." The Elders gave the same shallow bow and intonation, then turned with the Mayor and left for their homes.

Mat bowed respectfully back, and out of the corner of his eye saw Azula still standing. "What, forget your manners back in the cooler, Princess?"

"Let's get something straight right now, peasant: we are _not_ friends," Azula whispered fiercely. "I told you we shouldn't have come here. Those Elders are probably gathering the local militia as we speak."

"Oh Princess, will you please relax?" Mat put on a grin for any villagers still watching them. Taking Azula by the elbow, he began walking in the direction of Zahra's Inn. "The Elders may have some issues, but for the most part these people trust me."

He fell silent as they passed a group of villagers, not speaking again till they were out of earshot. "You know what that is, trust? It's something that happens when you start helping others instead of only looking out for yourself." Painting on a smile, Azula pulled her elbow from his grasp, but not without first covertly shoving it into his gut.

"Ooff—and to them, you're just one more person the kind and obliging Phoenix is helping." Mat rubbed his stomach. "Even though he's starting to regret it."

The two kept up the illusion of a happy conversation, their voices remaining low. Azula nodded and smiled at some villagers, her pleasant expression almost painfully bright. "I should have told them who I was. I'd have this entire village bowing until their backs gave out."

Mat rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you being public enemy number one would really get us in good with a town the Fire Lord and his friends frequent. Let's just get in and get out—unless you actually want that militia out here throwing fireballs at us?"

The two made their way to a red-tiled building, two stories tall and the words "**Zahra's Inn and Supplies—All you'll ever need!**" embossed in red over the threshold. They stood in the doorway, finally dropping their faux smiles. Mat held open the door, watching Azula. "Please, leave the regal attitude at the door, okay? I've got friends here." Azula scoffed and flicked her bangs out of her face. She pushed past Mat and into the Inn.

The common room was scrupulously clean, with polished hardwood floors and several round tables to sit at. Opposite the entrance was a long mahogany bar stained a deep, almost velvet red. Behind it were rows of drinks, a key rack for rooms on the second floor, and several various traveling supplies; all marked with prices and assurances of quality. From the room behind the bar, a feminine voice floated out.

"Be with you in a second, I'm just getting a new apron. Make yourselves at home!"

Mat took a seat at one of the oaken tables, putting his feet up and leaning the chair back on its hind legs. He eyed Azula with a smirk. "You know, you can come in and sit… I promise the tables' not gonna attack you."

From the door, Azula shot him a look. "This hovel is filthy. I've stayed in ruins that were cleaner." It wasn't true, but Azula's ego was still tender after remembering her war-time encounters with Mat, and knew no better way of dealing with it than taking out her frustration on its instigator.

Mat's smirk disappeared. "Did I not just say to quit with the bitching? If you've got to be a pain, at least keep your voice down. Zahra's got ears like a Wolfbat."

"I hope by that you mean I have impeccable hearing, not that my ears are pointed and furry." Zahra came from the back room, a worn but soft smile on her face. She was a short, curvaceous woman with a pointed chin and sharply intelligent eyes. She wore a plain, deep red dress beneath a recently starched white apron. Her grey-streaked hair was tied up in the local style, and her face wore the lines that came with long years of running a business alone.

She carried drinks in her hands, and shooed Mat's feet down as she set them on the table. "Well well, the Phoenix has decided once again to grace my establishment with his handsome face," Her sarcastic tone lightened somewhat. "I had a feeling you'd be coming back, dearie."

"Ahh, Zahra. You look more ravishing than ever. I'm glad my waking you last night didn't detract from your beauty sleep."

Zahra walked back to be bar, putting an exaggerated sway in her hips. "Mattie dear, beauty sleep is for the old. As long as young studs like you keep paying me for rooms, I'll stay young and full of life." She smiled as Mat laughed, taking a long drink from the mug she offered him.

Azula cleared her throat, irritated at their suggestive quips. Zahra turned, appraising her for the first time. "Oh my, Mattie. I didn't know you brought a girl. A little on the mangy side, but I've never been one to question your tastes…"

Mat choked on his drink and Azula colored. "I most certainly _am not_."

Zahra laughed. "Oh, I'm only giving you a hard time, precious. This boy is a chivalrous as they come; I've never seen him play anything but the gentleman. Unless you've been holding out on me, Mattie dear?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, ma'am." Mat hid his smile inside the mug. "Zahra, this is who I got the food for last night. We're on our way to Capital city and—"

"Ahh, so it's a damsel in distress, is it?" Zahra offered another mug to Azula. "Let me guess—you want to be cleaned up and dressed properly before he blasts the two of you back to civilization, eh?"

"…We're taking a balloon."

"It takes longer, but I can't blame you. Mattie's method of travel does leave quite the… impression."

"Hey! I covered the crater up this time, didn't I?" Mat exclaimed in mock indignation.

"Yes, but now instead of a hole in the ground I have a melted rock in my garden—hardly an improvement. Wouldn't you say, precious?" Zahra watched as Azula examined the contents of her mug. She looked back, slightly annoyed.

"I still don't know what you're talking about. What's this blasting?"

"Oh, don't worry about it." Zahra gave Azula one last appraising look before taking her hand. "Now come with me—we'll get you cleaned and looking respectable again. Mattie, you go round back and start heating the tub. Mind you, don't go out the front—I heard Xi and his pack of geriatrics harassing you from my kitchen."

Zahra led Azula behind the bar, to the innkeeper's apartment. Azula estimated it to be about half the size of the common room, with windows lighting the interior and a back door opening into the garden. On one side laid a neatly kept sleeping mat, a polished cherry wood countertop, and several dressers. The other side of the room, separated by hanging curtains, held a large wooden tub, built against the wall and on top of a two way heat-box. Tucked in the corner were a set of stairs leading down into what seemed to be the cellar—likely a store room for the tavern's spirits, Azula decided.

"Just get in the tub and leave your clothes by the curtain. Would you like them cleaned?"

"No," Azula answered, pulling a lever and watching water fill the tub from a piping system in the wall. She could hear Mat adding coal to the heat box on the other side of the wall and igniting it, quickly heating the water. "Just burn them."

"Escaping the past, eh? Well I couldn't think of a better man to do it with."

Azula gritted her teeth as she removed her prison rags and folded them by the curtain. "I'm not escaping anything," She raised her voice so both Zahra, as well as the boy outside, could hear her. "And I'm especially not doing it with him." Azula waited until she heard Mat leave the heat box and start back to the tavern before lowering herself in the tub.

She stifled a moan as she sunk into the water. She was loathe to admit it, but it was the perfect temperature. "I've barely spent two days in his company, and already I can't stand him." Five years of frigid torment slowly began to seep out of her knotted and tense shoulders, leaving behind a lucid contentment Azula had almost forgotten she could feel. "How he carries himself, how he talks, how smug he is about his vaulted powers." She slid deeper into the water, resting her head on the wooden back and gently soaking in the tub.

She was just about to call for soap and scents when Zahra came in, carrying a bar of lye and brushes. "Well, they say power corrupts." Zahra handed Azula the lye soap. "And for the amount he can bring to bear, I think a little self-confidence isn't so—"

"But worst of all," Azula continued as if she hadn't even spoke. "Is how loved he is. How much everyone falls over themselves to catch a glimpse of the mighty Phoenix. Power like his shouldn't be loved—it should be feared."

"Like yours was Your Highness?" Zahra said with a quiet voice. Azula stiffened, her hand curling into a fist around the cake of soap. She turned to look at the aged Innkeeper, who was looking back with an eyebrow raised.

"Yes, I know who you really are. There isn't much that happens on Capital Island that I don't know about, all the talk that traders and soldiers bring to my bar. I pieced together what exactly was said during that fight between your brother and Mat, and I've known him long enough to tell that there's no way he'd just leave for good like that. And after someone came in talking about a breakout at the Boiling Rock, I put two and two together," She chuckled. "Heh…decided to keep _that_ particular nugget of gossip from Xi and the elders."

Zahra reached out to the stunned Azula and freed the soap from her hand, softly turning her body and washing the princess's back. Her voice was quiet, serious. "It's true you were feared, almost as much as your father. And it's true that fear is an effective tool, but only if you plan on being alone."

She used a bucket to pour water over Azula's soapy back, speaking as she did so. "I picked up this from an old Storyteller one night. He came in telling tales to the children, and the moral always ended up being, 'Fear can only be used by the solitary creature; one that only relies on its own power. To be feared, one must be completely alone, because one is wont to see relationships as weakness. However, it is always the person who is alone that is actually the most afraid.' I always thought there was a truth in that.

Azula kept silent. She knew from experience how afraid the powerful are to show weakness, to let other's close. At best, you were worrying about your enemies coming at you through your friends—at worst, you worried your subjects would decide you were human after all, and rise up against you.

The words were true, but Azula refused to admit such an uncomfortable truth to a stranger. When she did speak, her voice carried not nearly as much spite as it seemed to warrant. "Well good thing Zuzu and Mat don't have that problem. They've been one big happy family since the war."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that." Zahra stirred the heat box, shifting the cooling coals. "You've been a bit occupied, so you wouldn't know. But from what I can glean from him, and whatever reliable gossip I pick up, I've been able to piece together a bit of that boy's history."

Zahra stood and moved to where Azula had placed her clothes. She re-folded them, her hands simply searching for something to do. "Mat would appear, out of the blue, on rare occasions during the war. He'd help in a fight, spout some vague advice, then disappear. In the last five years, his visits have been fleeting at best. No one knows where he goes, except maybe the Senken."

"Whenever he re-appears though, he makes my little inn one of his first stops. Don't know why, maybe he sees me as a mother figure—spirits, what a thought. " She sighed and straightened, clutching the dirty rags to her breast. Azula watched quietly, deep in thought.

"But after five years of sudden appearances and rushed visits, I do know this: that poor boy is terribly alone. Oh he may make friends, sure. But he makes no real connections, no deep bonds. Mattie jokes, makes light of everything, but he'll never let you see the real him, not once." She opened the curtain to leave, pausing and looking back over her shoulder.

"Drain the water when you're done. I'll have some clothes ready for you. What colors would you like?"

"…Dark ones."

Zahra smiled. "I figured as much. Don't take too long… I can hear him talking to a balloon merchant now." The curtain opened and closed, leaving Azula alone with her thoughts.

She sat in the tub, just soaking. After a time, she pulled herself out and dried with a towel, pulling it around her and using the rough brush to untangle snarls in her hair. It was longer than it seemed when it was dirty, more fragile as well. She moved to a small vanity mirror and wiped away the fog, surprised at her reflection.

She was old—older at any rate. Her face was lean and pale from years with little food and light. Wispy strands of raven hair fell much longer than she remembered, and she was careful not to be too rough with the brittle locks. Her trademark bangs hung much lower now, ending at the swell of her breasts, which now rested on a malnourished frame—Azula could easily see her ribs beneath her skin.

Her eyes were still the same deep gold, but they had lost… something. Whether it was the fever of insanity or the cool cunning of a burgeoning tyrant, she couldn't tell. Hunger, Azula decided. There was a hunger missing from her eyes. It wasn't satiated; it had simply been…chilled away during the five years at the Boling Rock. Peering closer, she decided the missing hunger wasn't a loss to be mourned. She recognized that it was the hunger for power, for complete control and singular accomplishment that had thrown her in that cell those five years ago.

Now she just had to decide how she came into the hunger originally… and how to keep it from returning.

Azula turned when she saw the curtain shift in the mirror, and saw that Zahra had brought her new clothes. There was a black blouse with a long blood-red skirt, along with a set of undergarments, boots, and a hairpiece. Azula dressed quietly—it wasn't silk, nor was it particularly stylish, but she was glad to be in something other than burlap and mildewed cloth. She laced up the soft leather boots and reached for the hairpiece.

It wasn't anything special—certainly nothing like the royal hairpieces that used to signify her status and prestige as Crown Princess. However to Azula, it carried the same meaning all the others did. The clasp and pin that kept her hair in place was the lock and key that imprisoned her at the Boiling Rock, the paternal expectations and pressures that crushed her sanity and drove her to actions most would call highly immoral, if not downright evil. Azula shook her head, she knew she was being illogical—it was just a stupid brass ornament.

But still…

She held it for a time, silently turning the dull metal over in her hands. Finally, she placed it on the countertop and left for the bar, where Mat had found a pilot with room enough for two passengers.

…\/…\/…\/…

My pet name for this chapter is, "The unrelenting avalanche of cliches."

kids who love a main character? check.  
crotchety old village elder? check.  
Older women who flirts a lot? check.  
fan service bathroom scene? kinda check. (Azula isn't lookin' too got right now, guys. Girl just got outta prison, ya know.)

I bet you guys expected Mat to "Walk in" on Azula, didn't you? Come on now, I'm not that far gone... yet… XD

and I hope her conversation with Zahra aired out some of yall's reservations about Matthias. As well as why Azula might just be interested in changing her torch-and-burn ways. The tavernkeep brings up some good points-- loneliness is a terrible thing, and both Azula and Mat have had their share of it growing up.

Also… FANART!!

Two pics of Matthias, so now you crazy kids can have a soild picture in your head. (replace the pluses with t's to view)

h++.com/art/The-Latest-Musagetes-118610027

and h++.com/art/Mat-in-Avatar-by-Luna-118307800

review docket is 6/10. Remember that every 10 reviews I post a chapter immediately. Come on people, you can do it!! You don't even have to say you like it, just say something ! :P


	10. Of Entrances and Explanations

The Avatar Saga—Azula's redemption  
Chapter 10: Of Entrances and Explanations  
By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

"_As Rome succumbed to flames, the raiders looted my temples and treasures. They spread throughout the empire, and their gods came with them. We gods new and old battled for their faith, and I survived. I became Belenos—the shining one. I was worshiped from the ruins of Rome to the fields of Gaul. From Britannia to Dubh Linn."_

"Wait… Dubh Linn, as is Dublin? Like where Grandpa Mac lives?"

"_I remember Maccan—I called him Maponos. He was a fine Musagetes, I was sad when he passed the title on to your uncle."_

"Why couldn't my family's business just be something normal, like a Mafia?"

…\/…\/…\/…

"Sokka, do you really have to bring that to the table?" Katara admonished her brother. The Senken were being served dinner in one of the palace's smaller dining rooms, preferring a more intimate atmosphere to the cavernous main hall. "Working through a meal is terrible manners."

"I can't stop now—I think I've finally figured out a way to get air to the Water tribe submarines." Sokka had partitioned himself off with stacks of paper, charts, books and charcoal writing sticks. Balanced precariously atop the stacks were several plates of food, mostly half eaten. "This is important work, little sister."

"It must be important if he's sketching instead of stuffing his face." Toph picked her teeth. "You're never one to pass up a meal, Snoozles."

"Perhaps he just doesn't like Kerji's cooking." Mai sipped Zuko's tea, eyebrow arched.

Sokka gulped and put down his sketch. "Uhh, no! Her food is great, Mai! Here, pass me more of that komodo rhino sausage…"

One of the palace servants moved with a jug of water further up the table, where Aang, Zuko, and Suki were talking.

"So Aang, you're a free man until the fall summit, barring any major catastrophes."

"Spirits willing."

"At least you don't have to worry about Kuei pestering you anymore," Suki added. "Since King Bumi started mentoring him, his royal decrees for your help have decreased, right?"

"He's been worked down to sending only two or three a month, thankfully."

"Ashes," Zuko muttered. "Bumi teaching Kuei how to run a government—he's probably instructing the man on how to get a bear to ride a mail shoot."

Aang grinned. "Katara and I are hoping to quietly visit some friends before any bear-related messages reach us." He made room for Momo, who settled on the table and began eating off his plate. "We're just going to see where the wind takes us, I suppose."

"In true Air Nomad fashion, I wager." Zuko said.

"Of course, I couldn't go anywhere without Appa."

"It's nice to know someone's going to get a break," Suki said. "Sokka and I have to oversee the new security on the Konketsu Islands."

Zuko smiled and nodded to the serving girl as she filled his glass. "Thank you Kerji." He looked back at Suki. "Do you think there will be any problems?"

Suki sighed. "Well, you know how it is—everyone wants to take 'even ground' and exploit some sort of advantage." She brightened and smiled at Zuko. "But worst case, we'll just have to knock some sense into a few merchants who think they deserve special treatment."

Zuko gave an almost carnivorous grin. "I wish I could come with. I haven't had a good honest fight in ages."

"Oh? Is life in the palace not all you thought it'd be?"

"Ashes, it's such a pain. The Generals want to hold a council over redeployment positions and the Rhino raids, and I _still_ have new firebending lessons to teach." The Fire Lord sighed and sat back in his chair. "Thankfully Great Sage Shyu has been expanding his order, so they should be able to completely take over the new lessons by the end of spring."

Zuko looked over at Mai, who was watching with a critical eye as Sokka shoveled food into his mouth. He smiled. "But if we don't get out and do something interesting soon, we'll end up burning this place to the ground."

"Speaking of burning places to the ground, any word from Mat yet?" Aang spoke up as he fed lychee nuts to Momo, who chattered appreciatively.

Zuko lost some of his smile. "No, not yet. I'm starting to get worried. There hasn't been any word since the two escaped. Even if it's part of the plan, I don't like committing troops to catching fugitives I don't really want caught," He sighed. "On top of that, I got a report today that groups of Rough Rhinos are getting bolder in the smaller villages and ports. So even after avoiding my 'patrols', they could still end up having to deal with raiders."

"I'm sure the two of them can handle whatever comes their way."

Zuko pushed his meal around his plate. "Probably. I'm more worried about what to do when they get here."

Suki looked up from her meal. "What do you mean?"

"Well, what do I say to her? Apologize for locking her up? Command her to follow my orders like I was our father? Sear it—I don't even know what Azula's like any more. The only thing I do know is that she probably hates me."

Aang spoke up. "Azula is lost. Everything she's held to be true has been thrown to the wind, and she has no tether because of it. She needs you to care for her, give her guidance—I remember when I first got out of the Iceberg, I needed Katara and Sokka more than anything."

"You could take her to see your father," Suki said. "Let her see where following his path leads to. Who knows—if she's there he might drop something about your mother he hasn't before."

Zuko was about to respond when an elderly, scratchy voice broke over the table. "A thousand pardons, Lord Zuko." Li and Lo entered the room. Slowly conversation halted, and all eyes turned to the royal attendants.

"It's no trouble, Li," Zuko said. "What's the matter?"

"The Phoenix has entered the palace grounds," Lo spoke. "And he has brought with him a young woman who looks to be your sister."

Li spoke again. "The Royal Guard has been following them from a distance, but we've told them not to act without your word. What is your will, my Lord?"

Zuko straightened out of his chair. "Kerji, please go tell the guardsmen they won't be needed. Mat and Azula aren't the enemy, and the last thing I need is a fight on palace grounds. Li and Lo, please issue the proclamation I prepared earlier to the public—it's time everyone knows that fight in front of the nobles was a show. Where are they now?"

"The turtle duck pond, Lord Zuko," Li and Lo said in unison.

"Figures. Well, I'll go see them."

"Do you want any company?" Aang asked.

"No. I'll come back after we get a chance to talk."

"I'm coming with you." Mai stood as well, her eyes on Zuko. Her face was the picture of poised composure—only Zuko could see the intensity behind her eyes and hear the fire in her voice.

He nodded, then moved with her towards the door. "I'll let you guys know what happened later tonight. Please excuse us."

The two of them left, followed by Li, Lo, and Kerji. The rest of the group remained with their own thoughts on the return of Azula.

Mixed as they were.

………………………………

Sunset found the Princess and Phoenix at the palace's turtle duck pond. Mat sat with his back against a tree and his face towards the setting sun with his eyes closed, absorbing what heat he could from the day's final rays. Azula walked about the garden, taking in her first time home in five years. She moved throughout the courtyard, her golden eyes slowly drinking in the quiet serenity the palace held. A serenity only slightly marred by the flashes of red and black metal in the corners of her vision.

"I don't want to ruin this rare calm you've got going Princess, but you keep walking around like that and those guards are gonna get jumpy."

"If they were going to arrest us, they would have done it already." Azula replied, making her way to the central pond. Knelt and dipped her fingers into the water. "I used to play here when I was a child, with Mai and Ty Lee and Zuzu."

"Oh? And how was that?"

Azula paused. "Before my bending, it was nice. Zuko would come here in the afternoons and show me what new forms he had learned from the royal guard. When he got too tired to bend we would feed the turtle ducks and Mother would read us stories. It was… simpler, back then."

Mat opened his eyes and watched her. "…And after you started to firebend?"

Azula fell silent for a moment. Mat thought she almost looked ashamed. Almost. "Then Father started teaching me things, and it became just another place to plot in. I'd bring Mai and Ty Lee here to torment Zuzu, and while Father wouldn't say anything, Mother would always scold me… this garden lost its luster after that, I suppose." Turtle ducks were swimming towards the edge of the pond, used to people at the water's edge bringing food for them. One duckling, faster than the rest, came to Azula's dipped hands and pecked, searching for a treat.

"Well, the turtle ducks aren't scared of you—I guess it's an improvement," Zuko's voice came from the entryway. He entered with a small, cautious smile, followed by Mai. "It's been a long time, Azula."

She turned her head to look at him and for a moment, her vision doubled. Beside Zuko, the tall man with long hair and formal robes stood Zuzu, a traitorous fool who towered over her and looked on with disgust as she screamed and cried and raved beneath the comet's fiery light. Azula shook her head, clearing it. After a few deep breaths, she met his eyes again.

"Five years Zuko. But don't worry, It wasn't as if I was keeping count. I was just so busy in my cell, you know."

Zuko's smile dropped. "I admit it—leaving you in that cell wasn't the best thing for you." Azula just sniffed and looked away. Zuko continued. "But surely you understand the position I was in."

He slowly walked towards her, his pace deliberate and self assured. Zuko no longer feared Azula, that much she could tell. In fact, she realized that if anything their roles were now reversed. Now she was the outsider, the one who would be forced into changing the way she had been taught to think and act in order to fit in.

To her credit, while all these thoughts passed over her mind let none of it show on her face. Azula kept her mask on tight, refusing to give her brother the pleasure of seeing her insecurities—the pleasure she knew he must be seeking, because it was exactly what she would have been seeking from him. As he approached she made no move to leave, and the only evidence she even noticed his movement was the stiffening of her back and the setting of her jaw. Mat however, sat up fully from the tree as Zuko spoke again.

"I had a country to run and a world to rebuild—caring for the girl who tried to kill me and my friends was sort of pushed down the priority list, even if you are my sister." The young Fire Lord stopped and looked at Azula, his eyes probing, trying to get beneath the mask. "And be honest—if the roles were reversed, would you have done any different?"

Azula picked up the duckling. It sat patiently in her hands, waiting to be fed. "Honestly? I would have had you tortured and executed within a month, just to be done with it. In fact, I probably would have done it myself."

She allowed herself just the slightest bit of satisfaction from the reaction on his face before cutting off his burgeoning reply with a heavy sigh. "But now… Zuko, I've had time to think about why you put me there… and what I did to deserve that cell in the first place." She paused, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, but I'm not ready for this—this conversation yet."

She looked at him, and finally the mask she had been holding gave way. A gambit of emotions played across her face, and for better or worse, all of them were genuine. "Just understand that no matter how I despise you for locking me up there—and believe me, I do," Azula took another long moment to calm herself before continuing. "I know you thought it was for my own good. And maybe… maybe it was."

"That remains to be seen." Mai brought a roll out of the folds of her sleeve and knelt next to Azula, feeding bits to the appreciative duckling. "Azula," she said in her driest voice.

The Princess looked at her former friend, her voice barely a breath. "Mai."

"Come on," Zuko said in a low voice, hauling Mat to his feet. "You can tell us about what happened inside—let's let these two talk for a while."

Mat lingered, eyeing the two women. "I didn't break her out of prison so your girlfriend could kill her, Zuko."

"Give Mai a little credit. She's nothing if not self-restrained. At the very least, she'll wait until _after_ I talk to Azula before sticking her full of needles," Zuko said wryly as the two moved out of the garden.

Azula watched Zuko lead Mat out of the garden and back down the hallway. Before leaving, Mat turned and almost caught her eye, but she gazed away quickly. A moment passed before she finally spoke.

"Looks like it's just us girls, I suppose."

"I asked Zuko for a chance to speak with you privately."

"So despite that ridiculous beard he's growing, you two are still together?"

"Happily, too. One of the only positive things to come out of all your deceptions and schemes."

Azula fell silent, searching for words as she watched Mai feed the turtle ducks. She fought down the frustration of not knowing what needed to be said to fix their relationship. The old Azula could effortlessly come up with a stunning dialogue of half truths and white lies, twisting the past five years into an attack on Mai's conscience.

Azula shook her head. She didn't want to be that person anymore—the old Azula only led back to the Boiling Rock. Coming up with nothing better, she decided to go with the truth.

"I don't know how to talk to you anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know if I can speak without lying, if I can befriend and not blackmail…I…I'm not sure anymore if I ever could…"

"No one is," Mai's voice was the flat sound of a heavy stone being thrown into a pond. "Most of our conversations about 'the terrifying Azula' is whether or not you were born evil, or if you just grew up that way." She kept her face on the turtle ducks, and Azula was reminded of her oldest memories of Mai—a girl who hardly spoke, and only did so to tell you the absolute truth, no matter how much it hurt.

Slowly, through their time together at the Fire Nation Academy for Girls, Azula had worked that brutal honesty out of her—manipulating her into an even quieter shadow who wouldn't argue, talk back. It was a challenge, to make her accepting without making her meek, but through patience and some advice from her father, she had pulled it off. It surprised her then, to realize that she actually preferred this Mai to the one she had crafted for her own personal use. She didn't need a tool at the moment—she needed a friend.

"But it's not important." Mai said. "It doesn't matter if you never knew how to be a good person. What matters now is whether or not you're willing to learn." Mai looked at her, and Azula was surprised to see the smallest inklings of sadness behind the much more obvious anger in her eyes.

"You used to be my friend, Azula. When we were children, you and Ty Lee were all I had. My parents never cared about me—I was just one more thing to control and keep from ruining Father's image. I hated them."

She threw a chunk of bread into the pond, watching some of the turtle ducks fight over it. "When you came to Omashu and recruited me, I was genuinely happy—I thought I would be free from scrutiny, from rules and control. But you didn't want us with you because we were your friends; you came for us because you knew we could be used. Like tools."

Mai's voice started to rise; a soft red coloring her pale cheeks. "I just traded one set of shackles for another. You tried to hide it, but we had lost your friendship the minute we signed on to help fight your war. Koh, we might have lost your friendship before then, even. Why, Azula? What made you see us as nothing more than pieces on a Pai Sho board?"

"I had to prove I could do it." Azula found she was desperate to explain, and the words spilled out of her mouth before she had a chance to think on them. She had lost so much, and she knew that she could very easily loose Mai forever right then and there. "I had to prove to my father that I could succeed where Zuko had failed. I had to prove that I didn't need to rely on anyone, that I could gain power completely on my own. Don't you see? Anyone I got help from had to be viewed as nothing more than a means to an end—an object to serve a purpose and then be thrown away."

Spite came through Azula's words now, anger long repressed rearing forth. "To my father's eye, that's what we all were—tools to be used and discarded. I had to show him that I could be just as cold, just as merciless as he was. I had to prove that I could _become_ him. It was the only way to get his acceptance, the only way to get the one thing Zuko never had!"

Azula's voice cracked, and she fell silent. Her shoulders shook with dry sobs, but she refused to cry. Eventually, she continued. "I tried to become everything he wanted me to be. But I can't, Mai. I just can't. I wanted to show him that I survive by myself…" She dropped off again, staring into the pond. "… But I've spent the last five years doing just that, and it's not what I'd thought it would be. Not at all."

"He put all the pressure on you, didn't he?" Mai spoke quietly, searching Azula's face. "That bastard could have cared less about Zuko when he discovered your blue fire."

Azula clenched her jaw and nodded, done with words. The two looked out over the pond, silently watching as the sun's final rays sank over the stone wall. The mother turtle duck called for her ducklings, and they peeped in response. Azula set the one she had been holding into the pond, and it swam back to the reeds, following its brothers and sisters. For a time, there were no sounds in the garden save the lapping of the water and the soft calls of animals.

In little more than a whisper, Azula spoke. "Mai, I'm sorr—"

"No." Mai's dry voice cut her off. "Nothing insincere. I don't want to hear those words unless you're ready to really, truly mean them. Until then, I can content myself knowing that you might just have the capacity to care about others, and that you're going to make an honest effort to change."

The young woman stood up and looked at her friend. "You are going to change, right?"

Azula stood up as well. "…I'm going to try."

Mai gave the smallest, softest of smiles. Reaching out, she took Azula's arm and led her out of the garden. "Then that's good enough for me. Now let's get you out of those clothes—you're dressing like I used too."

And for the first time in five years, Azula laughed.

………………………………………………………………

"So they knew the fight between you two was an act?" Sokka asked. He and the others were in Zuko's sitting room, relaxing. Kerji was brining in drinks. "We sure seemed to have all those nobles fooled. Was there anyone who didn't take the bait?"

"That's the problem—we know all the nobles bought it. Lo and Li have been keeping tabs on everyone who was at that meeting, and neither of them could find anything but genuine amazement from everyone who saw Mat leave." Zuko was playing Pai Sho with Sokka, both giving little real attention to the game.

"Could it be an inside job?" Suki asked. "Someone here in the palace, like a servant or something?"

"Kerji." Zuko turned to the servant. "How long have you served in the palace?"

"All my life, Fire Lord. Same as my mother and her mother before that."

"All the servants are clean. Most of them have been working here longer than I've been alive. They're all completely loyal to the Royal Family."

"Okay, so a badgermole in the palace is out." Sokka rubbed his chin. "Mat, didn't that Sog guy make it sound like they had something to do with your dream? Could these mysterious bad guys have given it to you somehow?"

Mat looked up from his place against the wall, next to the window. Zuko watched him, the tops of the cherry trees that circled the turtle-duck pond barely peeking over the sill.

"You all would know better than me if someone could do that," Mat said. "The only way I know of to affect someone's dreams like this is called 'dream dissonance', and you have to be a really strong Seer to affect someone's dreams on this level. And even if you are strong enough, I'm pretty sure you have to actually touch the person to get into their mind."

"Well, what if it's something in the spirit world?" Toph asked. "What if someone or something over there is helping the bad guys?"

"That's what Aang's trying to figure out now." Katara answered as she looked over to her boyfriend, who was meditating in the center of the room. "He's going to speak with the other Avatars and see what he can find out."

"Is that what Twinkle Toes is doing? Feels to me like he's just sitting there."

"It's what I'm trying to do." Aang said out of the corner of his mouth. "And if you all would quiet down a bit, I might actually be able to cross over."

"Oops, Sorry." Toph covered her mouth.

"Should we leave the room for you?" Zuko asked. "We need to know what's going on now, and we don't have time for—" He stopped speaking when a blue-white light flashed through the room, causing everyone, with the exception of Toph, to cover their eyes. When the light faded they saw Aang still seated in lotus position, his breathing steady and his tattoos pulsing with energy.

"…Well, looks like we've got some time to kill." Sokka sighed and stretched. Anyone up for a late-night snack?"

...\/...\/...\/...

Ho'kay, chapter 10! a little group scene, a little introspection, a little meetings... and a cliffhanger! all in all, I'm pretty proud of this one. I at first had Zuko and Mai being a lot more accepting of Azula, but I figured that despite having 5 years to cool off, things would still be...touchy between them all.

review is 9/10! one more and I post a bonus chapter by monday!!!


	11. Of Manasaa Kai’s and Messages

The Avatar Saga—Azula's redemption  
Chapter 11: Of Manasaa Kai's and Messages  
By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

"_In the land of the Emerald Sun I continued eked out an existence of sorts. With The Nine lost to me I was tasked to continue their mission—no, their labor—of maintaining the Source."_

"…Okay, and that is…?"

"_The Source is the physical manifestation of Mimema—the collected unconsciousness of mortal imagination, put to use by your race's creation of fictions both realized and conceptualized. The Nine used to maintain the fictions for Gods and men, I as their leader."_

…\/…\/…\/…

Kuzane, Son of Kuzen and Grandson of Kuzon, was breaking the rules. His parents knew all about their son's adventures, and had given up trying to restrict him entirely. However, there were three rules—more like commandments—that he had promised on threat of Koh to never break:

He promised never to walk the docks after dark.

He promised never to walk the docks alone.

And He promised to especially never walk the docks, after dark, alone.

Therefore, Kuzane was understandably cautious as he entered Dockside, with the waxing moon high overhead and alcohol-fueled sailors directly before him. He pressed his back against the dimly-lit walls, keeping his eyes open for the right kind of drunkard. He needed a sailor or merchant who'd had enough Fire-whiskey to talk, but not enough to fight. It was a fine line to walk, but Kuzane had experience with wooing adults full of a tavern's spirits, and knew just how much to push a man before he had to worry about getting cuffed or clobbered.

"Did you guys hear about Storyteller?" He sat himself alongside two merchants—Earth Kingdom, by the make of their clothes. Traders such as these had flooded his town before the ink on the Peace Treaty was even dry. They knew everything about everyone in the places they did business in—the key was getting them to admit it.

"Storyteller? Now why would I know anything about that?"

"Because you've been coming here every night for the past week, and he was too until the Rough Rhinos carted him off yesterday afternoon."

"Rhinos." The second merchant spat on the wooden floor. "They were bad enough during the war—doing Ozai's dirty work and terrorizing our towns. Now all this pirating they're up too, along with the open rebellion? Heh, at least they're raiding your villages now, instead of ours."

Kuzane bristled, his patriotism getting the better of him. "Fire Lord Zuko is beating them back. It's not his fault all those deserters flocked to them and went rogue."

"And what would you know about Fire Lords, deserters, and pirates, boy?" The first merchant gave Kuzane a closer look, stroking his waxed mustache and beard. "You don't look old enough to shave, much less be in a tavern talking with grownups. Cho, I think we should leave."

"I think you might be right Chu." The second merchant began stacking their cards. "And we should probably tell the barkeep about his little vagrant problem as well."

Kuzane put his hands over their cards. He spoke in a low, serious tone that seemed incongruent when coming from such a young-sounding voice. "I know they kidnapped an old man yesterday, and it's because of me he's being interrogated at their hideout somewhere."

"So you're the little performer, eh?" The second merchant laid a card on the table. "You've got quite a reputation… Kuzane, is it? I hear you talked you way out of a week in the town jail after you set fire to the mayor's carriage."

"And I got three weeks worth of punishment at home instead. Now do you know something about Storyteller, or don't you?"

"They don't. But I do." A fourth voice broke over the table. Kuzane paled—he recognized that voice. Muttering a curse to the spirits, he turned and locked eyes with Sifu Honna—the man who always caught him coming to class late. The man who always seemed to know when his reports were finished during the walk to school. The man who had a direct line to his parents.

"At this time of night my students are normally in bed, pupil Kuzane."

"Sifu Honna." Kuzane bowed respectfully. "Are you a man of the drink? I didn't know you came to Dockside."

Honna's gaze never wavered. "And I didn't know your parents let you break curfew."

Kuzane hung his head. "They don't know I'm here."

"Ah, so I'm to add 'out after curfew' to your already expansive list of infractions."

"Skipping on class every once in a while isn't an infraction!"

"I beg to differ. And regardless, filling my desk with badgerfrogs most certainly is."

Kuzane saw sailors looking his way. The tavern was taking notice of their little show. An inkling of a plan took shape in his head, and the boy smiled—if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was how to put on a preformance.

"Sifu," Kuzane rose from the table and raised his voice, adding just the right amount of boyish innocence to his question. "How do you know where the Rhino's are hiding?"

"You forget I spent years as a captain in the Navy before retiring to teach little monsters such as yourself." Honna had noticed the tavern's interest too, but couldn't do anything about it. "I still have some contacts there, and they like to keep me informed on current events."

"So you know where my friend is being kept then?" The student enquired.

"That is almost as big a secret as the one you're currently keeping from your parents, pupil." The master replied.

"What if I make you a wager? If I win, you tell me where they're keeping Storyteller and if you win, you get to tell my parents I was breaking curfew again."

"Again, eh?" Kuzane winced, and Honna smiled. "What's to stop me from telling your parents anyway?"

"Oh Sifu," Kuzane spun on his heel to face the crowd, his eyes watering and his voice catching with sobs. "You wouldn't let my parents beat me just because I was worried about an innocent old man, would you?"

The crowd began to murmur. What sort of man could be so petty towards a schoolboy? Honna's jaw tightened, and it was Kuzane's turn to smile. He knew he had his teacher trapped—if Honna told Kuzane's parents, he was being needlessly mean to a child who was just trying to do the right thing. But if he backed down now he'd lose face for refusing a child's challenge.

"Fine. What are we to wager on?"

"A duel, you against me."

This sent Dockside's patrons into a roar of laughter. Honna remained grim. He knew there had to be more to it—his student may be young, but he wasn't stupid. "From what Sifu Wass has told me, you're firebending skills aren't exactly prodigious Kuzane."

"I don't want to duel with fire; I want to duel with minds." Kuzane paused a beat, letting the anticipation build. Striking a pose, he pulled his shoulders back and pointed at his teacher. "I challenge you to a Manasaa Kai!"

The Fire Nation sailors started yelling over each other, setting bets and taking wagers from everyone at once. The barkeep grinned at Cho and Chu's confused faces and explained as he filled their cups.

"Manassa Kai is the old term for 'imagination duel'. The boy, since he issued the challenge, will start first. He'll name himself as a person, place or thing. Then Master Honna will name himself as something that tops it, and Kuzane will have to top him. It continues until one can no longer top the other—when their mind runs out of ideas."

"Who do you think will win?"

"Honna is smart as a whip—he's travelled the world and gotten to see just about everything. But I've watched Kuzane stump Magistrates with his stories and riddles."

The merchants turned to each other.

"Forty gold coins on the teacher."

"You're on."

The room quieted as the two opponents stood on the bar, affording everyone a view of the imminent duel. For a beat there was silence, each combatant quietly weighing the other's strengths and weaknesses. Kuzane knew the risk he was taking. More than just a punishment at home for being out so late, news of what happened tonight would surely reach Rhino ears within a few days. Even if he didn't win, he was putting Storyteller at further risk just by trying to find him. He shook his head, clearing it of all extraneous thought. If he was going to beat his Sifu, he would need to put his entire mind to work on staying two steps ahead of him.

Kuzane took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and issued the opening challenge.

"I am a schoolboy: energetic, rambunctious, and curious of spirit."

Honna answered almost before Kuzane had finished speaking. "I am a teacher: knowledgeable, patient… and spirit crushing."

Kuzane waited for the laughter to die down. That was just the opening round, more of an introduction than anything else. He smiled—despite all that was riding on this duel, he couldn't contain the pleasure of being on stage, of performing for an audience.

"I am a koala sheep: cute, fluffy, and teacher endearing."

"I am a boar-q-pine: sharp-tusked, spiny and sheep eating."

"I am a warrior: brave, steed-mounted and boar-stabbing."

Honna found the chink in Kuzane's armor—the boy didn't want to duel with animals.

"I am a fang fly: sharp-toothed, steed biting, and warrior throwing."

"I am a badgerfrog: fly-eating, loudly croaking and jump-hopping."

"I am a viper rat: quick striking, frog eating and poison-fanged."

Kuzane needed to put a stop to the endless menagerie—Honna had seen more animals in person than he could even name. He had to change the subject, and knew just the animal that could do it.

"I am a messenger hawk: sharp eyed, rat snatching and viper killing."

Honna took the bait.

"I am a man: hawk taming, tool making and message sending."

"I am an admiral: man leading, tool using and war-fighting.

"I am a king: admiral commanding, tool commissioning and war-starting."

"I am the Avatar, king advising and war-ending."

The crowd murmured—surely the boy had won. Nothing trumped the Avatar.

Honna smiled openly. "I am a disease: slaughtering, sickness causing, mortal-life ending."

Kuzane swallowed, his teacher was dueling in earnest now. "I am the world: life giving, supportive and nature starting."

"I am the elements unbalanced: chaotic, death brining, and world destroying."

"I am the spirits: element calming, balance brining, and forever watching."

"I am the end times, the final days. I am the darkness that swallows everything—the end of spirits, the end of worlds… everything." Honna smiled grimly. His last attack had sobered the crowd, leaving them with the stark realizations of nihilism.

Kuzane looked at the crowd and their blank, low faces. He thought about Storyteller, alone in some rebel camp being interrogated for information only he seemed to know. He thought about the war, about stories of hate and anger and oppression, of the abysmal and overbearing misery that came hand-in-hand with hopelessness.

Suddenly Kuzane knew—He knew what could stop the end times. He knew how to win this duel with three simple words.

"I am hope." He said it softly, in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

Honna's smile faded. He looked at his student, eyebrow raised. "What did you say?"

"I am hope. I am the faith that things will never end. I am ever enduring, ever believing, and always present. I will outlast the worst you can throw at me. I will stand above the darkest of times, radiant and piercing in my light. I am hope."

He turned to the audience, and saw his determination mirrored in the sea of faces. They too had weathered a seemingly perennial depression, a war that lasted a hundred years. But these men, regardless of homeland, profession or status, survived because they had broken the biggest rule of all—they had hoped for a better tomorrow.

Kuzane nodded once to the crowd, acknowledging them and their victory. At this point he used one of the tricks of the stage—a certain inflection of voice and body language that singled the crowd to applaud.

"_We, we are hope." _

It had the intended effect. The crowd burst into applause—Honna couldn't have continued even if he wanted too. Not that he seemed to have the intention of doing so, smiling in earnest as he strode across the bar to stop in front of Kuzane, formally bowing to the victor.

Kuzane returned the gesture, and as he did Honna whispered in his ear. "Storyteller is being held not far from here, on a nearby island. He didn't want anyone to tell you unless we felt you were ready."

"Boy." Honna lifted Kuzane's chin, and their eyes met. "Do you have the courage to risk your life for a stranger?"

"He's not a stranger." Kuzane's gaze never wavered. "But yes, I do."

"Then meet us in the caves at the north of the island on sunset the day after tomorrow. Bring whatever you see fit, pupil Kuzane—and this as well."

Honna pressed something small and stony into Kuzane's palm. Uncurling his fingers, the born performer was faced with a small Pai Sho tile. He looked up at his teacher in amazement.

"Prepare yourself Kuzane. For we either come back with Storyteller, or we don't come back at all."

……………………..

Aang opened his eyes to darkness. All around him, streams of inky blackness swirled and collided, exploding into cascades of ebony sparks. The horizon was little more than a dull black overcast, stretching on endlessly. He wasn't sure how, but without any apparent source of light Aang could still see the muted plains of black that had become the spirit world. However, it was like viewing the world behind a filter—everything was dark, abysmal, and distorted.

Not sure exactly how he was doing it, Aang began to move forward. He wasn't moving himself however—the darkness was doing all the work. It pushed and pulled him, with a mind of its own the darkness brought the young Avatar to a great archway. It was a large and imposing structure, hewn from jet-black stone and decorated with symbols of the four elements.

Beyond the arch came only more darkness, but of a more intense sort. It leaked out in small dark rivulets, churning and mixing with the greater blackness on his side of the arch. Aang tried to resist, feeling nothing but negative energy flowing from the other side, but his efforts were in vain—the living darkness moved him inexorably forward. Soon he found himself on the other side of the archway, deep into the uncharted abyss of the greater spirit world.

Immediately he was attacked—the darkness changing its mood from subtle antagonism to outright hostility. Dirty, inky water swept around him and chilled his bones, while dark, angry fire cackled and filled his lungs with burning soot and ash. His body was pelted on all sides by rounded, fist-sized ebony stones, and any move to escape was denied by a black, screaming wind that cut lines of bright crimson into his flesh.

Aang fell to his knees. The pain consumed him, pushing out all other thought and feeling. No amount of training had prepared him for an assault such as this, where all four aspects of the natural world conspired against him in such a violent and forceful way. It was almost as if the elements themselves were tearing him apart.

The only thing that gave him hope was that through the torment, behind the apparent evil of the elements, he felt a human direction. This darkness was not naturally occurring; it was manufactured, a reflection of someone or something in the real world. The elements seemed to scream just as much with Aang as they did against him, and the darkness clung to his body in equal parts sorrow and rage.

Unfortunately, this knowledge did little to stem the torrent of agony that overwhelmed him. Aang balled his hands and bit his lip. The tinny taste of blood flowed onto his tongue and he felt precious, liquid life pool in his fists to drip from the cracks between his fingers. He looked wildly about, searching for something, anything that could help him, but saw only the inky abyss in every direction.

Just as his vision faded, as his body surrendered—Aang felt himself suddenly spirited away. The nocturnal maelstrom leapt forward, furious and lethal in its pursuit. The air howled in rage at losing its prey, while dark masses of earth sped towards him. Shards of ebony ice along with gouts of black fire swirled in all directions, blindly seeking to make contact with the Avatar's vulnerable flesh. The darkness was intent on keeping him firmly within its grasp, no matter what.

But Aang looked over his shoulder, and seeing what had taken hold of him, smiled. He knew he was safe.

……….…..…………

"What's this, Roku?" we send you out to bring us dinner and you bring us the Avatar instead! Not exactly what I had an appetite for, friend."

"Oh hush, Kuruk. We haven't eaten anything since we crossed over." Yangchen scolded. She turned to Aang and smiled, her arrow tattoo almost glowing in the firelight filling the cave. "It's good to see you Aang. I wish it was under better circumstances."

"I found him beyond the archway, nearly dead." Roku flipped his robes and took a seat on his stone chair next to Kyoshi. She looked at Aang, her gold headpiece tinkling in the quiet of their refuge.

"Then all was almost lost." Kyoshi said, appraising the monk with her severe, painted face. "You were lucky Roku found you Aang. As far as we can tell, anyone or anything that enters the greater darkness does not return."

Roku and Fang had brought Aang to a small cave, far away from the darkness. Outside there was only a dull twilight, slowly becoming an unnaturally dark nighttime of its own. Still, it was a far shade better than where he had been, in the malcontented blackness that lurked beyond the protective archway.

Inside the cave were four of his former incarnations—Roku of the Fire Nation, Kyoshi of the Earth Kingdom, Kuruk of the Water tribes, and Yangchen of the Air Nomads. They sat now around a small fire, one that provided precious little illumination from the growing blackness outside.

"That darkness…What is it?"

"Something unnatural." Yangchen answered. "Our world is a mirror of yours, what happens here is always a result of actions taken in the physical world. It would seem that someone in your world has put plans in motion that hold less than honorable intentions."

"Less than honorable—listen: whoever's doing this is evil, pure and simple." Kuruk interrupted. "Someone on your side of things is up to no good, and it's screwing things up over here."

"How?"

"It's keeping the other spirits in darkness, stopping us from interacting with the physical realm," Kuruk said. "That's why we couldn't get through to you with a warning—we had to relay information through a third party."

"You mean Matthias."

"Exactly." Yangchen took up the thread now. "Your friend's duties require him to be easily contactable by otherworldly parties, so we used that connection after failing to break through the darkness and reach you. We had hoped the Outsider would pass the message along, and that you would decide to come see what was happening for yourself."

"I told you it was a bad idea," Kyoshi admonished. "He comes here and nearly dies because of it. If Roku hadn't been out patrolling with Fang—"

"But I was, so there's no point dwelling on it." Roku spoke up now, turning his bearded face to Aang. "Besides, we have more important matters to discuss. Aang, every moment you spend here makes it harder for you to return to your body. This darkness is blockading everything, and it will take all our combined strength to send you home."

Kuruk leaned forward, the firelight casting shadows off his Polar Leopard pelt, giving him a profile that was more beast than man. "So while you're here, we're going to give you some messages to pass onto your friends— they'll all have a specific part to play in the war to come, and it must be done if you're to have hope of beating back the darkness."

"I understand. Please tell me what you can."

Kuruk nodded. "That's what we wanted to hear. Alright, your little waterbending girl has scrolls to find up in the Northern Catacombs—Personally I was never one for those particular techniques, but she'll need to master the skills they teach if she wants to save the life of a friend."

"The young woman who carries my legacy," Kiyoshi spoke now. "She and the swordsman have begun to make a lasting change; they are an example to the world that people of different Nations can live in harmony together. However, their balance is not yet complete. Their destiny ends not only with water and earth, but fire as well."

Yangchen took Aang's hand and looked at him, her face conflicted. "I've struggled with the decision to tell you this… but Airbender, for better or for worse… You are not the last."

Roku stroked his beard. "Tell the Fire Lord only that he and his Lady must prepare the home for unexpected challenges."

"I will, but what about Toph?" Aang asked. "What is she meant to do?"

The five looked to one another, silently debating. Finally, Kiyoshi spoke again. "All we can say is that the earth child must endure. Beyond that, we do not know."

"That is enough, we must return him now or we won't be able to at all." Roku stood and led Aang to the mouth of the cave, where Fang was waiting. Outside, the abyss swirled and pulsed, a dark vortex of the worst the elements could offer.

"Aang," Roku said. "My great-granddaughter must be kept on the path to redemption—she is crucial in the fight to come. Azula cannot find peace until she speaks with her mother, and she must travel with the Outsider to find her."

Both men stopped at the mouth of the cave, watching the darkness outside. Roku continued. "The two have much to teach each other—they are bound together more tightly than they could hope to imagine, in a way even I don't fully understand. Tell the Outsider that when she has need to speak to me, he absolutely must help her to do so."

"I will tell him, Roku." Aang turned as the other three came forward. "And thank you all. I'll do my best to keep the balance."

"As you should—it's your job now, runt!" Kuruk said.

"What he's trying to say is that we know you'll do your best." Yangchen smiled and stood on her toes, brining his forehead down to hers to touch arrows. "These are trying times, child. You must stand united, or all will be lost."

"Remember what we've said." Kyoshi took position next to the other spirits. "Only you can reveal what is really happening. Stay strong, Avatar."

"Aang, are you ready?"

"Yes, and thanks again, for everything."

"It is no more than our duty." Roku raised his hand, his palm glowing with a soft white light. As the others followed his gesture, the darkness outside seemed to howl with more fervor.

"_Now you must do yours." _

………………………………………………………

As Aang returned to his body the first thing he noticed was heat. Wet, salty heat. Hot tears dripped onto his face, and as his storm-grey eyes fluttered open they came to focus on worried blue eyes of Katara. Relief flooded her face, and she nearly fell on top of him, embracing him fiercely.

"I hate it when you go where I can't follow." She whispered into his ear. "I hate not knowing when you'll come back."

Aang returned the hug, tired but relieved. Easing Katara off of him he sat up, scanning the room and glad to find everyone hovering around him, even if their looks were one of worry. Even Kerji was moving through the room, silently replacing a basin next to bed with fresh water.

"How long was I gone?"

"About half the night." Sokka yawned. "We were about to leave and go get some sleep when you started bleeding and bruising all over the place… Then no one felt like leaving you alone."

Aang looked down at his palms, and was surprised to see them caked with dried blood. They felt sore, but the cuts from his nails were gone. He felt along his body, and could detect the almost completely healed bruises and cuts the wind and earth had left him with.

"I knew we couldn't move your body, but that didn't mean I couldn't heal you right here." Katara explained, wiping her eyes of any remaining tears. "I mean, I had to do _something_."

Aang smiled in thanks and gave Katara a reassuring kiss. After the two shared their moment, a voice spoke up from its place next to the window.

"Well, what did you find out?" Mat asked.

"The previous Avatars contacted you because they couldn't get though to me. It looks like the whole spirit world is being affected by what's happening here. It was nothing but darkness, and all the elements were part of it." Aang looked at his hands, opening and closing them slowly. "I probably would have died if Roku and the other Avatar spirits hadn't saved me.

"Well, did you learn anything else? From the spirits?"

"Zuko! Can't it wait until tomorrow?" Katara moved from the bed where Aang rested to the water basin Kerji had refilled, drawing more out to heal the remaining wounds.

Aang laid against the bed's headboard, allowing Katara to work. "No, he's right. I need to get their messages to you all before I forget them."

Aang related what he had been told, and did his best to answer his friends questions. Unfortunately, he didn't know much more than they did—and the tasks his previous incarnations had given were anything but specific.

"'The earth child will endure?' What kind of crap is that?" Toph muttered. "Am I supposed to just sit by and wait while you all get to do the fun stuff?"

"No, that's me." Zuko said. "Apparently I'm supposed to stay here in my little palace and prepare for something uneventful."

"Unexpected." Aang corrected.

"Same thing."

"And I get saddled with you just because we're dating?" Mai asked dryly. "I'm holding every single day I'm left bored against you personally, Zuko."

Zuko sighed and nodded. "All right, but at least wait until tomorrow afternoon to use me for knife practice. I'm going to take Azula and visit our dear father in the morning."

"You'll need to take Mat with you."

Mat looked up from the window, surprised. "What, why?"

"One thing Roku made absolutely clear—where she goes, you go." Aang pushed through Mat's rebuttal. "No exceptions. He said you two were 'bound together more tightly than you could imagine,' or something."

Mat scoffed. "Well great, just what I wanted."

"He also said that she'll need to speak to him soon. And when she does, you absolutely have to help her in any way you can."

"Great—I've been reduced to a dead guy's errand boy." Mat turned again to look out the window.

"How long does he expect Mat to be able to hang around? He's been here more than a month now…" Toph let the sentence hang—they all knew Mat never stayed in one place for too long. Whether he wanted to or not, the White Phoenix was an endless wanderer. Seven pairs of eyes moved to him, and he turned from the window with a heavy sigh, looking back at them.

"This time, when I got here I wasn't exactly sure what I was supposed to do." He began slowly. "Not like before—like the drill, or underneath Ba Sing Se. It always used to be a simple 'Show up, make sure things were going smoothly, help out if needed, then leave.' I've tried to never change the big outcomes, or alter the status quo. Rule number one of my job is to not get too involved. But now…"

Mat broke off, struggling. "I'm in uncharted waters, guys—something I'm really not used too. Staying in one world for so long… It's never happened before. Maybe I have to be more involved than I normally do; maybe I just got here early this time… I really don't know."

He fell silent. The room lay quiet for a beat, until Toph spoke up.

"So you don't know what's going to happen. Big deal, neither do we. We never do, really—we just come up with plans and hope they work out in the end. It's called life, Bird-boy. Get used to it."

"…Thanks Bandit…" A soft smile grew on Mat's face. "I guess if you all get by without the Pythia telling you where to go and what to do, I can too."

"Then it's settled." Aang stood. Katara moved with him, ready to offer support in case it was needed. "Tomorrow Zuko, Mat, and Azula will go visit Ozai, and try to find out where Ursa is."

"Is Ursa still important?" Suki asked. "Should we still be worried about just one person with all this darkness on the horizon?"

"She most definitely is." Zuko said with a surprising ferocity in his voice. "And Ursa is more than just one person. She's my mother." The group just looked at him. He looked back, slowly realizing the tone he used. He mumbled an apology, and the room filled with an awkward silence.

Mat filled the gap. "If my dream really was a message from your spirits, than Ursa definitely plays a part in all this. At least as far as Azula is concerned."

Aang nodded. "Roku said it was important that Azula find and speak with Ursa—also, you have to help her get to Ursa too, Mat."

Mat just groaned.

"Does Azula know she's going with you to the prison tower?" Mai asked. Zuko shook his head.

"I'll let her know." Toph jumped of the couch. "You all get some sleep. Katara—try not to keep Twinkle Toes up too late with your mothering." She left the room with a wave. "Hear you all in the morning."

Katara bristled, even as she unnecessarily put her shoulder beneath her boyfriends arm to support him. "I _do not_ mother him!"

Excepting Mat, the rest left for their rooms in twos. Speaking softly to one another, they moved through the quiet palace halls to bedchambers and sleep, awaiting the coming of dawn.

The White Phoenix walked the palace's maze of corridors and hallways, taking in the quiet of the night. Once pausing outside his room, he stood where moonlight filtered in though a high window, pooling white light at his feet.

Most of the time, he liked his job. There was lots of travel, plenty of action, more than enough fights… but other times, the quiet times like this one, when his mind would wonder and he would find himself alone…

Mat turned away from his door and climbed out the window, up to the rooftops of the palace. He walked the tiled roofs, looking down first to the quiet grounds, then beyond the darkened walls to the sleeping city below. He gazed out at the moon and stared at it for a time, silently wondering if it felt as alone among the stars as he did on the ground—surrounded by others who could never understand what it was or how it worked.

"_Bound together… this story's got a sense of humor if it thinks we'd survive being bound together. Someone'll probably die first."_

And as the Phoenix moved over the rooftops, he gave it no more thought. He had no idea just how true his words could turn out to be…

_Here ends episode 4_

_Τομορροω, βλοοδ ωιλλ βε σπιλτ..._

…\/…\/…\/…

Okay, here's chapter 11, up early because you cool people broke the review docket!! (I'm so proud… I knew you had it in'ya…)

Be sure to check back Friday for an interlude between chapters 11 and 12. I hope you'll like it!

Now before anyone asks… the Riddle game (took me forever to find a Sanskrit-English dictinary, btw.) is actually based on a similar, 1-up'd game my friends and I would play on long car trips (we were in teh boy scouts, there were lots of car trips to campsites.) it would almost invariably end with someone being optimus prime, and then everyone else giving up

as far as it's ending goes... no lie-- I was pointed to Neil Gaiman's sandman after writing this and found that not only had he had done something like this in one of his chapters, but his protagonist had also won by playing the "hope" card. (Admittedly, in a different context.)

Great minds think alike, I guess...

ohh, ohh! Fanart!! Here's a great pic done by the amazing lilfirebender. It's Mat and Azula, post the sod beat-down. (Chapter 8 remember.) After she remembers just who he is, the Princess takes it upon herself to educate the poor boy as to why one should never steal kisses from Royalty...

replace the +'s with t's, and presto! A working link… h++.com/art/A-losing-battle-119740400

review docket is 1/10… keep em' coming!


	12. Interlude: Of Shipping and Starlight

The Avatar Saga—Azula's Redemption

Interlude: Of shipping and starlight.

By Flamehead23a

A/N: This chapter is an interlude between chapters 11 and 12. It contains nothing 100% necessary to enjoy the rest of the story—it simply adds to the tale in deep, meaningful ways. It was written mainly as a first attempt at writing romance scenes, something I feel is important to any aspiring author. Let me be clear: This is a class act here—there is nothing here that you wouldn't find in a Nora Robert's novel. (Don't ask me how I know what's in a Nora Robert's novel, just go with it.) This is not smutty, but sensual, not raunchy, but romantic… at least I hope so.

That being said… enjoy.

…\/…\/…\/…

"Come here and sit down. I need to check your hands again."

Aang sighed, rolling his eyes in muted exasperation. He approached the bed Katara was sitting on, looking at him expectantly. The two were in the room they always shared while staying at the palace, the room Zuko had declared their permanent home while in the Fire Nation. Its decoration fitted their eclectic, nomadic lifestyle—Water Tribe polar leopard pelts lined the floors while Air Nomad tapestries decorated the walls. Lacquered chairs and dressers, flame hardened by the best Fire Nation artisans, were crafted specifically in the Avatar's honor; while the large stone bed, topped with a goose cat feather mattress, was a personal gift from Earth King Bumi himself.

"Katara, I'm fine. Really." Aang sat on the bed with and allowed her to take his hands in hers.

"Just one more look, I need to make sure none of the cuts reopen—" her concerned words were cut off as Aang's lips covered hers.

"Spirits, how you worry…" He murmured before kissing her again.

She smiled into the kiss, tension from the night's revelations ebbing from her face. "Blame it on my childhood, I guess."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He pulled his hands out of hers and held them, bringing the smooth skin of her digits to press against his lips. Softly, his storm-grey eyes looked deep into hers. They were no longer a child's eyes, full of youthful innocence. Instead a man, one who had traveled the world and grown into his position as it's protector, smiled from behind her gentle fingers. "If you weren't always around to patch me up, I would have reincarnated years ago."

Katara freed her hands and lightly ran the flat of her thumb against his bottom lip, before curling her arms around his neck. "You know," She whispered. "I seem to remember that lip bleeding too. Maybe I should start _'patching you_ _up'_ right here…"

She kissed him slowly, her lips hovering playfully over his until he couldn't stand it anymore and returned her kiss, opening it fully and deeply. Together they shifted from the edge of the bed, lowering their bodies until they were lying side by side on the soft mattress. Katara slid her hands under Aang's shirt, her fingers tracing the corded, tight muscles that wound beneath his skin like a coiled spring. Aang gently began kissing the length of her neck, his long, slender fingers slowly stroking up and down the smooth skin of her mocha-tanned arms.

Katara's fingers slowly slipped their way down from the back of the young avatar's neck, working their way gently south to the base of his spine, and finally just ever so gently ghosting their tips across the coarse, knotted scar on his lower back. Involuntarily, he flinched—a reflex from the memory of fire, pain, and lightning that came with the wound.

Katara broke away from their kiss, and Aang could see the pain in her face. "The Spirits say we need Azula… but I don't know if I can ever trust her. She gave you a hurt I can never completely take away."

Aang kissed her softly and rested his forehead against hers. "No," he whispered firmly. "I'm glad I have this scar. It reminds me every day to hold onto life; onto what's important… it reminds me to hold onto you." He looked at her again, that old boyish twinkle finding its way back into his eyes. "And stop thinking about Azula, or anyone else, come to think of it—right now, it's just you and me."

Their lips met again, this time not to be parted save for the occasional sight or gasp. Her lover's words filled Katara with renewed feeling, and she moved on top of Aang, straddling him with her legs tucked beside his on either side of them. Their bodies pushed and pulled together, rising and falling like the tides themselves. Katara gasped as Aang gently began caressing the small of her back, and she did the same to his arms, chest and back—pleased at the response she elicited, muffled as it was by her mouth upon his.

Despite her passion, Katara couldn't help the feeling that something tonight was…different. She opened her eyes and uttered a startled squeak, quickly wrapping her arms around Aang's shoulders and legs around his waist, burrowing her head into the nook of his neck.

Aang looked about to see what was wrong, and found himself, along with his apprehensive passenger, almost two chi into the air. It wasn't the first time he had let his passion get the best of him, though the last incident had been almost a year ago, and had ended with Aang accidentally setting their tent on fire. Now however, he laughed softly and with a grin, channeled them both back to the bed.

"So what would you like tonight?" he asked, placing light, feather-soft kisses on her skin as he inched down her body.

"Cool?" Aang murmured as he lightly blew cool air over her stomach, sending bumps over her skin and a shiver of delight down her spine.

"Or hot?" warm air rushed over Katara's core, washing over her with a filling, luxurious heat. Her eyes fluttered, and she gave Aang a playful grin.

"You're the Avatar, you figure it out."

……………………………………………………………

"So what do you think? Can a person change after so long in prison?"

"What? Who do you mean?"

Suki rolled her eyes as she wiped her forehead with a damp towel. She and Sokka were both sitting at desks on opposite sides of their room. The bedroom was small but comfortable, if not a little more ornate than what they were used to. The two were known as the warrior couple, and they often lived like it. The dressers and closets Zuko and Mai had provided them with were almost bare, both preferring to travel simply, with little more than the weapons they carried. At the moment the two were ending the day as they often did, regardless of the luxurious four-poster bed in-between them. Suki was busying herself with a make-up kit while Sokka sat hunched and scribbling over a sketch, only half listening to his girlfriend.

"Who do you think I mean?" Suki cleaned her brushes in a jar of water. "Azula. Do you think she's changed?"

"Oh. Yeah, probably." Sokka scratched an equation on a piece of paper, pleased his numbers seemed to check out. "I mean, I changed an awful lot during that one year we were in the war, from a scrawny village-boy living in the South Pole to… uhh… not that."

He added another feature to his sketch, envisioning the new design in his mind's eye. "If Azula's half the mastermind everyone always made her out to be, I'm sure she could manage to change in five years."

"You didn't change—you grew." Suki replied. "And I _know_ Azula is the mastermind people think she is," Her face darkened, and spite filled her voice. "From personal experience."

Sokka turned from his work and gazed at her. She kept her back to him, speaking instead to his quickly clouding reflection in her mirror. Her face was unreadable, a maelstrom of emotions and thoughts passing through the reflective glass and reaching Sokka with a ferocious intensity.

"…You know what she did to me, Sokka."

"I do."

"And you know what I said I would do to her if I ever got the chance."

"I remember promising to help you do those things to her too," Sokka replied, "All of them. Even the ones I know Aang would probably hate me for."

Suki's face remained unreadable, so he continued to speak. "Suki…You know I love you. I'll follow you to Koh and back if it's what you want. So, the real question here is whether you're taking that warpaint off, or putting it on?"

For a long moment, the two warriors were silent. Thoughts of unspoken vengeance passed between them, held mute only by the quiet of the other's reflection. Slowly Suki sighed, and the tenseness that pervaded the room evaporated. She resumed wiping her face.

"Five years is a long time to stay angry…"

Sokka smiled, breathing a relieved sigh of his own. Confident the conversation was finished, he turned back to his work. "That it is, dear."

Suki rose from her dresser and watched Sokka hunched back as it rose and fell with his breath. The seductive hiss robes and bindings sliding off her nubile body was audible, but Sokka was again too preoccupied to notice. She huffed, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her face. Slowly grinning to herself, Suki decided to try a different tact.

"Still though, at least it's good to know I'm getting a new sparring partner out of this. Someone who won't just let me win."

"What's that? Am I not enough of a challenge anymore?" Sokka's half tilted head grew a reminiscent grin. "I don't remember ever letting you win on purpose."

Suki swayed across the room to stand behind Sokka, putting her hands on his shoulders and massaging the knots beneath his skin. "Oh I know you never let me win on purpose, dear. It's just that you can get so… distracted." She bent low, dragging her chest across his back, and nipped his earlobe playfully.

She was rewarded with a sharp gasp from her companion, along with his hand jumping involuntarily—nearly knocking over his inkwell.

"Spirits, Woman," He gasped, as if the surprise of her attack had left the wind knocked out of him. "That's just unfair. You know I need to finish these plans."

Suki kept nibbling. "You take your time and finish, Sokka. Just pretend I'm not here."

"You're such a tease." Sokka scoffed and half-heartedly tried to shake her hold on him with a roll of his shoulders. With difficulty, he shifted attention back to his sketch, trying valiantly to refocus on the task at hand.

Fortunately, he wasn't very successful.

She began with slow, simple, and delightfully tortuous movements. Softly dragging the tips of her nails across his shoulders, Suki blew warm air against the back of his neck, quickly summoning an array of goosebumps. Sokka gave an involuntary shiver, his hand jerking a long, fractured line of ink over the sketch.

"Oh, look at that. You've gone and messed up your drawing," Suki chided with a concern both knew she didn't feel at the moment. "Here. You collect yourself, and I'll start a new one."

Sokka's eyes widened at her nakedness as she slipped into his lap. Every part of her body was taught, defined. There was hardly an ounce of fat, and her generous breasts swayed almost hypnotically within his line of sight.

Suki unfurled a new scroll and dipped a brush in the ink. "Now, how did that submarine look again? Oh yes, some sort of cross between a lumpy sea-prune and a—Ahh!"

Suki curled her arms around Sokka's neck and barely muffled a moan as he caught one of her breasts with his mouth—worshiping her succulent flesh with an almost painful intensity. The two sat there for a time, with Suki moaning and Sokka smothering her skin with nips, licks, and kisses. Soon she felt him swell beneath her, and she started grinding down against his burgeoning length. Gasping, Sokka released his hold and raised his mouth upwards to kiss her, deep and hard.

Finally, Suki broke the kiss, needing to breathe. She grinned seductively, running her tongue slowly over his lips. "Does this mean you're done with work for the night?"

With an enthusiastic, primal growl, Sokka quickly stood up—taking Suki in his arms and knocking the chair back as he rose. He stifled her surprised yelp with another kiss, not releasing her lips until he had carried her to their bed.

He threw her lightly onto the bed, and she screamed delightedly as her naked body bounced on the feather mattress. She looked coyly over her shoulder, her eyes lighting up when she saw Sokka taking off his shirt, his chiseled torso and sculpted shoulders sending shivers down her spine.

Sokka climbed onto the bed, a feral look to his eyes that made Suki's imagination run wild at the possibilities for the night's activities.

"There's more important work to do," He growled, reaching out for her. "And I don't plan on getting _'distracted'_ until the job is done."

……………………………………………………

"Ahh, Ahh, Ahh! Zuko, Oh spirits, Zuko!"

Zuko growled his response and increased his speed yet again, grunting as Mai's body writhed beneath his. The two lovers were always the most reserved outside of the bedroom, often going no further then a casual touch or embrace while in the public's eye. But in here, within the Fire Lord's bedchamber, the two finally released their fervor, often in explosive and fiery ways.

"Mm, Mai…" Zuko panted. She needed no other cue and took over their movement, pushing Zuko's chest down onto the bed and slowly grinding against him, drawing out their lovemaking for as long as possible. Leaning down, she kissed him slowly—one of the few pauses the couple allowed themselves during lovemaking. It was also however the only rest they needed, and the two were soon twisting against each other again.

Mai kept her hands griped against Zuko's shoulders, pinning him to the bed beneath her as she squeezed him with her core. "This time," she purred into his ear as she twisted against him. "I'm going to win."

"Not…not a chance." Zuko doggedly panted. Quick as a flash, he tapped the insides of her elbows, causing them to give way and catching her surprised body with his chest. Zuko seized the opportunity he had created, rolling the two of them over so he was once again on top.

A luxurious moan escaped Mai's lips and her eyelids fluttered, but she was far from defeated. Gently she trailed her fingers lightly across the nape of Zuko's neck—knowing how much he enjoyed it—and was rewarded with a surprised grunt. Her other hand snaked downwards, towards where their bodies joined together.

And then, wearing nothing but a wicked smile, she squeezed.

With a startled yelp, Zuko buried his face in the sweet sweat of her neck, sucking and kissing and panting as he lost all control. His release triggered her own, and Mai trembled from the fiery waves of pleasure rising through her. Her arms wrapped around Zuko's back, and her nails dragged across his pale flesh—leaving long crimson trails in their wake. The two moaned together, their bodies still unconsciously grinding against each other long after their scorching releases had ended.

With a satisfied hiss, Zuko rolled off of Mai and onto his back. Mai molded her body to his, laying her head against his chest, cooling off above the sheets as she caught her breath. Zuko drew his arm around Mai, and she traced small circles against his muscular stomach. They simply laid there for a time, regaining their breath and enjoying the comfortable silence.

Eventually, the two shifted to lie beneath the blankets, the night air chilling their heated flesh. As they finally readied for bed, Zuko spoke.

"That was… more intense than usual."

"I had some stress to work off," Mai replied offhandedly. "And you were the one who decided I shouldn't use the servants for target practice, so…"

Zuko chuckled, "It was the best decision I ever made." He softly stroked his lover's long raven hair, letting the silky strands pass through his fingers. "Am I to guess that your stress is stemming from our latest houseguest?"

She knew immediately who he was speaking of. "Just seeing her again… I couldn't decide whether to curtsy or fill her full of needles."

"And so you chose to talk with her instead." Zuko said with a small smile.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Mai sighed, lying back against Zuko's chest. "I actually think she wants to change... It won't be easy, but the will is there."

"Maybe I shouldn't take her with me tomorrow," Zuko mulled over tomorrow's plans aloud, almost more to himself than to Mai. "I could give her some time to get used to life outside a prison cell, here in the palace."

"No." Mai turned to face Zuko, her face inches from his. Her cheeks were still flushed, but the seriousness of her tone was unmistakable. "Give her too much time to stew within her thoughts and she'll just reason herself back into the old Azula's habits. She needs to see Ozai—if only for the closure it will bring her."

Zuko gave a rare, tender smile as he kissed Mai, wanting only to taste her lips just once more before they slept. "When did you get so smart?" He breathed softly into her ear.

Mai turned her back to Zuko and slid her way towards him, her body quickly finding its home pressed against his. "I'm a woman. It's my job to notice these things."

Zuko turned onto his side as well, the two molding together even closer than before. "Did you also notice the way Mat acts around her?"

She nodded, resting her head against his arm atop the pillow. "I can't tell if he cares for her or detests her, but either way it's more attention from a boy than she's ever gotten."

Zuko kissed the creamy skin of her shoulder. "I'll have to have a talk with him about it… we wouldn't want anyone set on fire by accident."

"You know you'd secretly love it." Mai reached behind herself to pull his other arm over her body, hugging it to her naked chest. "But all the same, there's definitely a connection there. Something you'll see more of tomorrow, when you take them to see Ozai."

"Hmm." He lifted a hand, bending away the candlelight that illuminated the room, casting the two lovers in darkness. "Yes, I guess I will..."

"By the way," Mai said dryly, just as Zuko was drifting off. "I won two-to-one, so you have to shave that horrible beard first thing tomorrow."

………………………………

"Learning to fly, Bird-boy?" Toph's sarcastic voice floated up from the palace grounds to reach Mat's ears.

"Nah. That's more Aang's shtick. Besides, I've got my own methods of transportation." Mat idly flicked a pebble from the rooftop. "You're out pretty late, Bandit. How'd you know I was up here?"

"You're sitting on top of my bedroom," Toph casually replied. "And I can't sleep with someone sighing and scratching around over my head."

"Sorry. I can move somewhere else if you want."

"Don't bother. I'm already awake." Toph rose on a pillar of earth until she was level with Mat's perch. She laid back, her sightless eyes staring skyward. "So if you're not up here playing Airbender, then what are you doing?"

"Oh," Mat laid down as well, the cool clay tiles of the palace roof soothing against his ever-heated body. "Just looking at the moon," He sighed. "And the night sky in general."

"Great. Way to pick an activity we can both enjoy." Toph smirked, throwing a glance to what she guessed was Mat's general direction.

"Well I didn't exactly invite you up here, Bandit."

"Your scratching said otherwise," Toph yawned loudly. "Okay then. Describe it to me."

"Umm… well," Mat fell silent for a moment, thinking. "Well for starters, imagine a big rock—like a boulder. And it's hanging up in the sky along with—"

"I didn't ask what it looked like, Featherbrains." Toph laid the palm of her hand flat at her side, against the earth. Raising it, she pulled a startlingly exact replica of the moon out of the pillar. "Snoozles explained to me what the moon looked like during the war. Wouldn't shut up about it, actually."

Toph tossed the rock over the edge of her pillar, smiling satisfactorily at the resulting crash. "Don't just tell me what the sky looks like, Mat. Describe it to me."

Mat sighed, looking up at the clear night sky. "I suppose you could say it's…barren."

"Sokka told me the sky was full of stars." Toph said flatly.

"Well, it is."

"So it's not barren then, is it?"

"Well…not at first. See it's like this," Mat trailed off for a second, trying to come up with the words. "At first impression it seems crowded, like a…room full of people. No, not people—more like statues, because they never move. Okay, well, they kind of move, so imagine a room full of statues that sort of move a little bit."

Toph grinned. "You've got such a way with words, Birdie—you should be a poet."

Mat grunted in frustration. "Shut up, this is hard. Okay, so you've got the crowded room."

"Full of people-statues that kind-of-don't move."

"Yeah, whatever, it's a bad analogy, I know." Mat smiled in spite of himself. "But past that, when you think about it, every star is actually unfathomably far away from every other star. So the room is more like the biggest cavern you could imagine, with each statue just barely able to tell there are other statues in existence."

Mat's voice became quieter. "And the moon is farther away from even the closest of stars, so far that the stars can't even see it."

Toph fell silent for a moment, thinking on Mat's words, sensing the deeper meaning to them. "…So despite all that stuff up there, the moon is alone?"

"More than that," Mat spoke. "The Old Man used to tell me something. He said, 'The sun, the only object in the daytime sky—is always alone. But the moon, separated from everything she can see—able to look out so clearly, but never come any closer to the stars or worlds she watches— is always lonely.'"

"…Come here."

Mat turned his head, looking over in surprise. He took in the moonlit figure of Toph—her hair long, black, and wildly splayed—an inky, ebon explosion against the pale brown of the moonlit earth she laid upon. She wore only her nighttime silks, and while the green and yellow fabrics were long, they were also deceptively thin. She radiated a contented, casual calm, as well as a natural beauty that immediately caught his eye—and refused to relinquish its grip, despite his best efforts to look away.

"Excuse—" His voice cracked, and silently he cursed. Toph graciously chose to ignore it, choosing instead to wait until he tried again. "I mean… excuse me?"

"I'm tired of talking to a disembodied voice." Toph scooted over on her pillar and patted the earth. "Come lay over here so I can see you properly."

Mat rose from the roof and cautiously hopped onto Toph's pillar. His approach reminded her of a wary animal—ready to bolt if given the slightest excuse to do so. Never really taking his eyes off the blind Earthbender, Mat slowly laid his back against the pillar and put his hands behind his head, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"That's better," Toph said. "Oh my, Birdie—your heart's racing like a cheetah horse. What's wrong, not used to relaxing next to such a pretty girl?" She had spoke with an air of casual detachment, but couldn't help a wide grin.

His pulse jumped again, and she knew he was blushing. "Um…I dunno, Bandit." Admirably, he tried to bring the conversation back to the casual jabs he was used to. "Though if I ever find a pretty girl to relax next to, I'll be sure to let you know what it's like."

Toph's face clouded, telling him she was in no mood for games. "You wanna go for a test flight, Master Phoenix?"

"No Ma'am."

"Then shut up." She turned her unseeing eyes skyward, shifting on her back. "And tell me why you think the moon is lonely."

Mat looked away from Toph's face to re-take in the night sky, missing the soft smile that formed on it after she felt him look away.

"It's like this," He found that this pseudo-philosophizing came much easier than talking to Toph directly, and quickly claimed his pace again. "The stars are all suns in their own way—they all make heat, give off light, and foster the beginnings of life. But the moon is cold. Lifeless. She can only mirror the warmth and light the stars send her way…and because of that the moon is forever doomed to be no more than an echo."

Mat broke off when he felt Toph shift again. He looked over just in time to see her scoot in his direction. Quickly, he began to shift as well, until he was almost on the edge of the pillar. Toph laid another palm to the earth, and a short wall encircled the pillar, effectively cutting off his escape.

"Now don't fly off on me, Phoenix." Toph grumbled. "I'm just cold, that's all."

"Well, I can lend you my haori if you want to warm—"

"Yes," Toph replied sarcastically. "I want a flimsy little jacket when the world's best living fireplace is within arm's reach. Now… _come_ _here."_

The earth shifted into a ramp, and Mat went rolling into Toph. Before he could react she had her head on his shoulder—her earthy, delicate scent filling his nostrils and pushing his pulse into overdrive.

"That's better," Toph said, hiding her smile beneath the pretense of shifting into a more comfortable position. "Now, when you've regained the use of your brain, you may keep talking."

Slowly, Mat's breathing returned to normal. He swallowed, trying to think of a joke to crack, or a lewd remark to make, but for once nothing came to mind. He swallowed again—wondering when exactly his throat became so dry—then sighed, finding no other options but to continue with their conversation. "I guess it's just that…most of the time I feel like the sun. I'm alone, but it's bright and warm and there's life all around me. But other times…nighttimes…I'd just like to be part of the crowd, you know? It'd be nice to be completely understood."

"I don't think you can ever be understood, Mat," Toph said quietly. He noticed that he had never heard her like this, so serious or so…mature. "At least not here. I don't know about the other places you travel too, but here…" She pushed off of him gently, angling her body and shifting her face to hover close above his, filling his vision and blocking out the bright night sky. "I may not _understand_ you, but I _know_ you."

They laid there in silence, her face just above his. Mat could see nothing but her soft features and full, half-parted lips. Toph could feel the heat of his breath mingle with hers, brush against her face, and fill her with warmth. Each was waiting for the other to speak, or make some kind of a move, but neither knew exactly what to say, or what kind of move to make. Finally, at his wit's end, Mat jerked his head upwards and screwed his eyes shut—desperately flying past the point of no return…

And the sound of their foreheads cracking together could be heard from the palace grounds.

Falling backwards against the short wall she had created earlier, Toph let loose a string of very unladylike curses. "Spirits, Matthias." She growled, feeling for bruises gingerly. "You sure know how to ruin a moment, don't you?"

Mat jerked his head backwards as soon as he realized what he'd done, slamming the back of his skull into the unforgiving earth with a truly unfortunate amount of force. Yelping in pain, he slowly dragged himself to the opposite wall. "Sorry," He gasped, blinking back the flashing lights that danced before his vision. "…But I guess you can't call me Featherbrains anymore, right?"

The two laughed through their growing headaches, soon settling into a comfortable—if not slightly painful—silence. Eventually, Toph spoke—just as casually acerbic as was normal for her.

"You know, Sokka'd kill you if he'd heard you calling the moon a cold, lifeless echo. He'd say you were besmirching Yue's memory, or something."

"The Old Man knew a moon once, and she was just fine with her solitude. How did he say it… 'She filled her nights with the bow, the spear, and the thrill of the hunt. She was one of the strongest of her kind, and her power sheltered women everywhere.'"

"Sounds like my kind of moon," Toph said with a smirk.

"Yeah, you'd have liked her—she didn't take crap from anyone, man or woman. She was the Old Man's twin, actually, and they were pretty close—he once turned a guy who was messing with her into a constellation."

Toph looked up at the stars. "Which one?"

"That one, right there." Mat pointed up to the sky. "You see, those three stars make up his belt and… wow, I can't believe I just fell for that."

Toph laughed and stood up, lowering the walls of the pillar as she did so. "You'd be surprised how many people do." She walked to Mat and patted his face, her palm enjoying the feeling of his warmth once more, before jumping the rest of the way to the ground and heading for a door.

She walked to the doorway, feeling another heartbeat moving throughout the palace, and decided she had stalled long enough. "Now we should go to bed. I've got to an oncoming headache to nurse, and you've got a date with Fire Nation Royalty in the morning."

Mat rose from the pillar, dusting himself off. "Will do. And Toph?" His words made her pause on the last step inside, hoping.

After a moment, Mat jammed his hands into his pockets. "…Thanks." He finished lamely, despite wanting to say more.

She turned her face forward, hiding beneath her bangs.

"No problem."

…………………….

Azula couldn't sleep. She was tired to be sure—exhausted even. The last few days had been a campaign of highs and lows, and her first time lying on a real bed in five years should have been more than enough to put her down in minutes. But so soon after her head touched the pillow, she could hear them.

Her prison-trained ears picked out every sound made in the living quarters. The moans, the coos, the shaking beds and squeaking mattresses—Azula was surrounded by rutting teenagers. She tried to block it out, but her over-active imagination ran wild with scenarios, positions, and vivid imagery. Eventually she could take it no more, and throwing on a silk robe, Azula snuck out of her room and slipped as far away from that side of the palace as she could.

As she padded through the hallways, she caught snippets of their conversation. It both filled her with relief to know she wasn't going to get stabbed in her sleep, and a sort of bittersweet satisfaction that she still carried enough reputation to garner a fair amount of mistrust.

Eventually, she came to a garden. It was quiet and peaceful, full of exotic flowers and plants. Azula relished the feeling of cool grass between her toes, glad that the moon was just a few days away from being full—she didn't need her bending for light.

"_Not that I could bend,_" Azula recalled, her frustration mounting. She was about to take a deep breath to help bite down that anger, when the earth beneath her feet opened up and swallowed her to the neck. She opened her mouth to cry out, and found a ball of dirt quickly muffling the sound, then hardening into solid rock around her mouth and further muting her cries. She was lifted up, encased in a column of stone, to the eye level of Toph, who she had to admit managed quite the glare, despite being blind.

"What was that? Were you getting angry, Princess?" Toph looked away and walked a few paces, leaving Azula trapped, ignoring her muffled explanations.

"Don't bother explaining, I can't tell if you're lying or not, so I don't even care to hear you talk." She bent a stone chair out of the ground and sat in it, still not facing Azula. "I'm here to deliver four things—an explanation, a message, a warning, and some advice."

"First, I'm blind. I see by sound, so not making any sound and sneaking up on someone is second nature to me. Second, you'll be going tomorrow with Zuko and Mat to talk to your Dad about something… Mostly your Mom, from what I can tell." Toph flicked her hair out of her face, rattling off her deliveries with a casual detachment.

Azula's eyes widened and Toph cut her off before she could even voice a muffled question. "Yeah, Mat didn't want to go, but Aang said he had too. Which brings me to number three."

Toph's chair turned around with a crunching of earth. She looked directly at Azula, her milky-green eyes almost glowing in the moonlight. "If you ever hurt him… either of them… spirits, if you hurt any of us for that matter, I will hunt you down and take you out myself. You might have been a called a genius… but I _know_ I'm a prodigy."

As Toph stood, every piece of earth she had been bending came apart—leaving Azula on her hands and knees, gasping for air. With a stomp from Toph, two small pillars sprung from beneath Azula's palms, sending the Princess from a bent to standing position before she even knew it. Turning again, Toph walked away.

"And as for the advice… you can either run from their sounds, or make some of your own… I figured that out years ago…"

…\/…\/…\/…

Comments on the characters interactions, and the style of romantic prose greatly appreciated. I'm trying to get better here, and feedback goes a long way.

I'm gonna post some links here-- they were my inspiration for most of these scenes. peruse them at your leisure by replacing the pluses with t's. (nothing is mature!)  
Kataang: h++.com/art/Avatar-Kataang-Real-Thing-105553093  
Sukka: h++.com/art/Avatar-Morning-make-up-81917929  
Maiko: h++.com/art/Close-The-Curtains-85483937  
Toph: h++.com/art/Toph-Avatar-62761723  
Toph and Azula: h++.com/art/AtLA-LISTEN-UP-71076380

okay, The Avatar Saga continues Friday, comments welcome!


	13. Of Shaving and Scarring

The Avatar Saga—Azula's redemption  
Chapter 12: Of Shaving and Scarring  
By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

"Well…who were they? The nine that scattered?"

"_Fair-Voiced stands first so eloquently. _

_The lovely—wearing roses encrown'd._

_The Proclaimer who watches history. _

_The Giver of Pleasure by sweetest sound._

_The Flourishing, The Songstress—Staff and Sword,_

_Ivy and Cypress—two masks left mirrored._

_She of Many Hymns with creeds as her ward._

_The Whirler dances, always revered. _

_The Heavenly, robed in points of bright light_

_Will always be dreaming, she cannot sleep._

_Together, these Nine, the Source they delight._

_Mimema recorded, else all should weep._

_I am with them beneath Parnassian heights. _

_Musagetes leads the Nine with shining lights."_

"…I'm never going to get an easy answer from you, am I?"

"_Through eons of working with mortals, I have found that the easy answers are never fun… little Kouros."_

_Here begins Episode 5_

_Α βαττλε οφ ωιτς κομμενκες...ανδ γοοδ μεν ωιλλ μακε μιστακες..._

…\/…\/…\/…

"…You shaved."

Azula and Zuko stood at the palace's front gate. Zuko was dressed in more casual attire, glad to be out of his restrictive formal wear. Most of his hair was down, past his shoulders, with a bit kept up in a loose topknot. His silk vest was frog-buttoned down the middle, a deep red with yellow trim. He wore a pair of two-toned pants, colored a deep red and mahogany, which tucked into shin-high, pointed boots that were each adorned with the Nation's seal. On a single shoulder, trailing down beneath his belt along one side of his body, he wore a strange sash— the serpentine form of a dragon snaked up from the bottom of the brocaded silk to spray elaborate fire over his shoulder. He rubbed his bare chin with a small smile.

"Well, even the Fire Lord wants to please his girlfriend."

The two walked down the busy streets of Capital City. Zuko never took a palanquin—from his coronation he made the effort to be a Lord of the people. Never an imposing shadow behind a curtain of flame, Zuko earned his subjects' respect through goodwill and familiarity, not fear. And it showed—the townspeople bowed respectfully as they passed, honored by his presence but not to the point of petrification.

Mat joined the two from behind, rubbing sleep from his eyes and muttering apologies.

"Sorry, but would it have killed you to wait a little longer?"

"I have a schedule to keep." Zuko responded. "I can't push back a day's worth of meetings just because you want an extra hour of sleep."

"Hey," Mat gave Zuko an appraising look. "You shaved."

Zuko rolled his eyes and shook his head, tossing Azula a meaningful look, who just smiled innocently back.

"A clean face and a schedule to keep." Mat said ruefully. "You're a changed man, Zuko."

Azula continued where Mat left off—as if taking notice of her brother's face for the first time that morning." Oh, and you must have done all this of Mai. I never thought you to be so…accommodating for someone else, Zuzu."

"Honestly, neither did I." Zuko looked back to the palace, almost as if he could see Mai through the maze of architecture. "But time has a way of changing people. Before finding Aang, I only thought about myself. But just a year after that first fight onboard my ship I had devoted my life to bringing peace to the world. I guess after the war all that devotion found two outlets… our people, and Mai."

"…And what was Father devoted to?"

Zuko sighed and clasped his hands behind his back, his leather bracers creaking. He eyed Azula, and she could almost see the gears in his head turning. "I've spent the last five years trying to figure that out. I was hoping you could tell me—you were his favorite."

Azula walked for a while in silence. "I don't think I was his favorite, more like I just never gave him a reason to banish me. Ozai conquered not to govern or to enlighten, but to control. To subjugate the weak to his will." Azula paused, watching children run past, kicking a ball down the street. "Everything he did was to prove he was better than everyone else. Prove he was above any other human alive."

"Must've sucked when Aang stripped him of his bending then." Mat said, taking an orange from a fruit stand and flipping the vendor a coin. "How can you be above someone when they have control over something you used to be a master of, but don't anymore?" Mat peeled the orange, and bit into it like an apple. "There goes your entire worldview—gone in a puff of smoke. Change like that must have left quite a mark."

"Yes…" Azula's voice was distant. "A mark…"

…………………………………………

**Pohuai village, 97****ASC. (After Sozin's Comet)****- Year of the Snake**

"Father?"

Ozai's eyes turned to Azula, slowly. The two were riding in the royal palanquin, black lacquered and wrought from gold. Azula folded her hands in front of her, politely waiting for her father's response. She was at her place beside him, her legs folded beneath her on a pillow while he sat on a heavy, hardwood chair. Azula knew to wait, kneeling next to her Lord and father, until he acknowledged her. When he finally did, she smiled.

"Yes?"

"I wish the answer to a question, Lord," she said, her head slightly bowed.

"You wish much," His voice was hard and unyielding, like the ebony of his chair. "Better that you wish the right to _ask_ a question, and pray I see fit to answer."

Azula bowed her head deeper. Even talking to her father was a contest of wills, a battle of etiquette and the rules of respect. No wonder Zuko was banished—he spoke with his heart, not his mind.

Ozai waited until he felt his daughter was properly shamed, then acquiesced. "What is this answer you seek, Daughter?"

Azula could hardly keep her curiosity from getting the better of her. She wanted to leap from her place at his side and lean just against him, to better laugh and smile and generally adore her Lord. But she was her father's daughter, and knew what would result from such…expression. No, she would restrict herself, mold her life to fit alongside his. Azula's very being was his to command, and she knew she would never escape that.

"I wish to know," She began, "Why you mark the people you defeat in duel or battle?"

She snuck a glance through her eyelashes at the impassive face of her father. Without looking at her, she knew he could tell what the real question was.

"Like I did to your brother, you ask?"

She paused, then nodded. She kept on the mask of innocence, though she knew how precarious a line she walked by bringing up such a subject. But Azula had to know—like her father, she hungered for power. And that power came hand in hand with knowledge—she could only become powerful by truly understanding the events of that fateful sunset duel.

Azula had been enthralled by the power displayed at that auspicious Agni Kai. The two duelists—one supplicant, one terrible—didn't fight so much as instruct her in a lesson on the futility of mercy. At first she had delighted in the screams, the caustic smell of cooking flesh. The casual use of such strength, such power, had sent chills down her spine and twisted a vicious smile onto her face.

It wasn't until her father forbade the healers to treat his own son that she fully realized what, and who, she was watching. This was her family, her inescapable destiny. She could either follow her father and destroy others with the casual ease of a tyrant…or be destroyed just as easily as her brother had, crushed beneath the pointed boot of a truly unstoppable force.

"Yes, Father," she said. The tremor in her voice began as apprehension, but ended as anticipation of her father's answer.

"Who was the greatest warlord to live in the past thousand years?" Every word was deliberate, stressed. Each syllable came down like a hammer striking heated metal and coating her with a shower of sparks. A dry, thin smile escaped him. "Ignoring the obvious supremacy of Sozin, Azulon, and myself, of course."

"Chin the Conqueror, Father."

"And what made him great?"

"Chin would use fear rather than fighting to win battles. He would sever the heads of every man, woman and child in a village, then show them to the next target of his conquest— as a presentation of clout."

"Yes." Ozai hissed the word, taking enjoyment in the mere mention of Chin's ancient crime. "Chin, uncivilized and brutish as he was, knew the effectiveness of fear as a tool—he knew that the right message would fly faster and farther than the truest arrow, pierce deeper and wound easier than the sharpest sword." He turned his eyes entirely on his daughter, the recently titled Crown Princess. She took it as the signal to do likewise—continuing the dangerous ballet of form and conduct. Gold eyes met amber, and they drank in each other's thirst for power.

"But what, my daughter, was Chin's greatest mistake?"

"Challenging Avatar Kyoshi in single—"

"Do not bore me with what your lessons have told you, girl." Ozai's drawled voice oozed contempt, and the temperature in the palanquin jumped as he traced circles on the arm of his grand chair. Sweat beaded unwillingly upon her brow, but Azula kept her eyes on his face—to look away now would be weakness…failure.

To look away now would be as good as death.

"Look deeper, Daughter. Aside from facing a fully realized Avatar, what did Chin do wrong?"

Beneath her mask of demure respect, Azula panicked. She didn't know what he wanted from her. Her mind raced over the countless lectures from her instructors, the generals' meetings she had secretly watched, but her dizzying intellect could not formulate a proper response. Azula then made the biggest mistake one could when failing to give Ozai the answer he wanted—she told the truth.

"I…I know not, Father. That is why I seek your wisdom."

His nostril's flared, and smoke curled from the tip of his slender, tracing finger. His eyes were of a tiger lion, ready to eat its own cub out of displeasure. Azula locked her eyes onto his, forcing herself to match his stare with one of her own; knowing that failure such as hers had killed greater figures than she, and praying to every spirit she could that he would spare her. Eventually he took a deep breath, and that dangerous, serpent's smile appeared once again.

"You are fortunate I remember your tender age, child. I will permit you, only this once, the folly of not directly answering my question." He sat back in his chair, but Azula refused to let out her breath.

"Chin's demise," Ozai drawled, "came because he took fear only so far. It is true that actions speak louder than words, but this is only if the words used are your own… never forget, Azula, that the weak share empathy for each other, and living proof of your power speaks much louder than a severed head ever will."

Ozai actually smiled then, as if he had recalled the memory of his first kiss, or a childhood lullaby. "The rats will never understand man's tongue, but they will take note of their brother's screams."

The palanquin slowed to a stop, coming to settle gently on the ground. The red-silk curtain silhouetted the armored form of a field commander.

"Fire Lord, we have arrived at the captured survivors, just as you requested."

Ozai stood, his robes without a crease, his eyes glinting with danger. His expression was relaxed, almost eager—though Azula knew better than to assume her father ever rushed or overreached. He always moved at just the right pace.

"Come with me, Princess Azula." She rose, following as he stepped into the harsh daylight. "It is time you learned how one makes a kingdom submissive with fear."

Azula marveled at the way her father walked. His strides were purposeful, deadly, as if each footfall brought another province to its knees. Every movement was gauged, calculated—full of royal pride and grace. Despite the heavy armor and royal double mantel around his neck, he moved as if he wore nothing more than the finest of silks. Azula admired him with the admiration a daughter would give her father, the respect a pupil would give its master.

The devotion a sacrifice would give its god.

They stood in the ruins of a village destroyed by battle only that morning. What little that remained standing was charred and smoking; the dust of buildings and stench of bodies mingled together, invading Azula's nose. It was the smell of conquest, and oh how she delighted in it—her father's victory tasting sweet on her tongue.

Ozai often inspected the prisoners of battle. He told Azula once that it always helped to remind the world of his power, let them know that no matter how far they may live from the Royal Palace, they were not beyond his reach. It thrilled her to see their wretched state, kneeling in submission before her father—before her. She was above them, in status and strength, and they would never dare challenge the Fire Lord, or Azula, again. Her power, even as a child, was well known, and Azula could see in their glassy, dirt-brown eyes their fear of her.

The prisoners were beaten, bloodied, and close to death. The village had been overwhelmed, their paltry defense force completely unprepared for the sheer numbers the Fire Lord had committed to battle. The group they moved to had a guard for every prisoner, keeping those conscious in place with a hand on the scruff of their necks. They had tangled with Fire Nation soldiers armed with serrated guandaos—Azula knew just by the jagged, open wound that bit deep into one man's side. He looked a hairsbreadth away from dying right there.

"Earth Nation," Ozai almost droned, as if bored just by speaking to them. "Once again, your pathetic attempts at defending your homeland go predictably unrewarded. The power of my empire is absolute; you have no hope of victory." Looking at the Fire Lord's impressive figure, the prisoners quickly lost what little fight they may have hidden away. Many began to weep. One man even fainted.

"Please, keep this pointless conflict alive as long as you wish. In fact, I will take no surrender, save unless it is made with your dying breath. I find it only fitting for you to know that I desire not to rule your contemptible race, but to erase it."

It thrilled her, these prisoners' fear. These were people she could distance herself from, people she could subjugate and bring to heel without fear of inconvenient emotions taking hold of her. And even if she could have cared, Azula wouldn't have realized it, so enraptured was she by her father's effect on these men, these so-called warriors. His simple presence had caused them to shrink into their captors' hands with fear; the man with the spear wound had fallen over dead. Azula almost swooned with delight—this was power, power in its fullest potential.

"I have been told this land harbored a sturdy, resilient people. I hope that is true, for it is the only way you will survive what is to come." Ozai moved to a random prisoner in the line, his strides causing all whom he passed to shudder. Azula could hardly tell under all the caked dirt and blood and tears, but she was almost sure the prisoner was a woman.

Azula knew it didn't matter, Fire Lord Ozai saw neither male nor female—only weakness.

"Are you fast, girl?" If one knew no better, Ozai's tone could have sounded soothing, comforting even. Azula knew however, and the girl seemed to as well. She shrunk back, her blackened eye squeezed shut, while blood from a gash above her eyebrow mixed with the tears on the other side of her face. She shuddered as he came towards her, then lurched forward, grabbing for his robes and sobbing incoherently for mercy.

Azula was enraptured. This girl's life hung on the Fire Lord's slightest whim. Azula not only dreamt of holding this sort of power—she hungered for it. Watching her father's impassive face, she, along with this girl, hung on his every word.

"A division the Komodo corps will incinerate Gaipan at sun down. Again, I ask: _are you fast, girl?_"

The girl could hardly believe her ears—she openly wore her astonishment, while Azula hid hers much better. She knew her father well, but still wondered what he was up to. Many of the prisoners within earshot raised their heads as well, hope beginning to kindle in their eyes.

"You… you would let me warn them?"

"If you can run fast enough," Ozai replied. "On your feet girl, let us have a look at you."

The girl shot to attention as if burned. She stood in Ozai's eclipse, even this movement causing her to pant and sway in exhaustion. The soldier could barely stand, and she was one of the least wounded among the prisoners.

Azula knew he didn't feel pity. Pity was for the helpless—a sickly-sweet feeling one found for others—a low emotion. Her father taught her long ago that only the flawed and weak gave pity to others, like her brother had shown for those young soldiers, or like her mother had shown for anyone she met—they did it because they one day hoped for pity themselves.

"No, no, no," Ozai made a display of inspecting the girl, who tried her best to stand tall. He kept the charade of a concerned friend going, but with each passing second, the soldier's short-lived hope bled out, while fear slinked back to replace it once again. "You might just make it in time, but you will be so out of breath you will be unable to give a proper warning." Ozai's caring face turned positively wicked. "Here, allow me to insure they receive the correct message."

With a wave of his hand, the guards restrained her. The girl's hope was dashed entirely, her fear contorting into absolute terror. Ozai unfolded his hands from behind his back, and spoke to Azula in his satisfied, twisted rumble. "This is why I mark them, Daughter. So other's—whoever lay eyes upon them—will know my power. Never let the world grow forgetful of your authority, Azula. Never let them question your control, your rightful place above them."

Fire Lord Ozai lifted one hand to hover above the girl's face, his long, slender fingers outstretched. Leisurely, he hands formed the fateful sign, and the air around the prisoners heated considerably.

"Remember this, my child. Only when you stand atop the world are you perfect." The fireball burst into Ozai's palm, the size of an apple. It did not flicker but rather pulsed, a constant and climbing heat. The ball folded into itself, each time doubling its destructive force, the immense temperature never straying farther than Ozai's hand. The orb grew to a deep, blood-red—the same as it did with Zuko, mere weeks before.

"And only when you are perfect are you truly powerful."

Ozai pushed the ball into the side of the girl's face. Like a heated knife through tender flesh it sunk, her skin boiling and charring, bits of ash turning brittle and falling to the ground. The girl's screams caused everyone, even the guards, to turn their heads away. Everyone but Azula. The shrieks and howls filled her with rapture—this was what it would take to be powerful, to not live under the rule of her father or anyone else.

It was a beautiful, empowering scream, and Azula couldn't help but laugh for the sheer joy of it.

Azula knew the burn to be the same Zuko had received—her father spared no mercy for weakness, be it from the enemy or his own son. She resolved to never be on the other end of that mark. No matter what it took.

Finally, the fireball had diffused entirely into the girl's jaw; leaving Ozai's hand against her charred and disfigured face. He rested his hand for a moment, almost caressing the wound, before withdrawing his palm and wiping it against his robes, already disgusted by the sight of the scarred, cataleptic prisoner—the shuddering, limp, lolling mass of flesh that she was. The girl's head rolled and hung, still steaming, until her guard jerked her back into the torture of consciousness.

"Take her two li in the wrong direction and dump her." The guard bowed as he exited, and Azula realized the true beauty of her father's plan—this girl was never meant to reach the doomed village. Instead she would find another hovel, and some other group of rats will hear her screams, and know the power of fire. Azula let out one last breath before turning to her father. She couldn't wait to ask her next question, punishment be damned.

"Will you show me how, Father? Teach me how to do it?"

And Ozai looked upon her with those cold, amber eyes, his mouth still holding that same minuscule, contemptuous smirk. There was no love in that face, but right then Azula didn't need love. She needed the knowledge he had, the power he exhibited. Ozai knew this, and he was glad.

"Why do you think I left the other prisoners alive? Practice makes perfect."

…\/…\/…\/…

Ho'kay! there's chapter 12! for any wondering what I based zuko's travel/fighitng/not in the palace outfit on... look no further than here: (B&W detail:h==.com/art/Three-Years-Gone-Zuko-93916449 and color: h==.com/art/ATLA-Three-Years-Gone-94037535)

review docket is 3/10-- keep it comming!


	14. Of Families and Failures

The Avatar Saga—Azula's redemption  
Chapter 13: Of Families and Failures  
By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

"I still don't understand, why does fiction even need to be maintained?"

"_All tales have a beginning, middle and end. If they are not met, if deviations occur, than the Mimema unravels. You mortals are dreamers—without your fiction you become listless, melancholic; you wither away and die. And because we gods rely on faith to sustain us, with your death follows ours."_

"Wow. You'd think that after all those thousands of years someone would've come up with a better system."

"…_.One would think…"_

…\/…\/…\/…

"Hey Princess, you okay?" Mat looked sideways at Azula as the three entered the base of the prison tower. Guards saluted as they passed, and Zuko moved away momentarily to converse with the tower's warden.

"I'm fine."

"You sure? You were pretty quiet on the way here. Listen, if you want to leave—"

"What." Azula shot a glare across her shoulder. "Just because I don't chatter like you and Zuzu means something must be wrong with me? Did it ever occur to you that I wasn't speaking because of the company I was in?"

The White Phoenix's concerned expression darkened. "You know what? Fine. I'm only here because of Aang's damn prophecy anyway." Mat walked to the lift, hands his in pockets. "Have it your way, Princess. I won't say a word for the rest of the day."

"What was that all about?" Zuko asked. He and Azula followed behind Mat to the lift, where four of the prison's firebenders were waiting.

"Nothing, to worry over. Mat has just given me my birthday wish early." Azula strode past the guards and into the lift, her chin raised. "Remind me to write him a thank-you note after we finish here."

The lift was a square sheet of metal, situated at the bottom of a long shaft that scaled the height of the tower. Each corner of the lift was fitted with foot-locks, and as Zuko entered the lift, the four firebenders strapped themselves in. As one, they sent streams of fire through additional shafts that ran in front of their feet, raising the platform and reaching the desired floor with startling speed.

"When we go in there, let me speak first," Zuko's voice was serious. "Even after five years he's still got a way of getting inside your head. I've spent more time here than anyone since the war ended—I know how to deal with him."

"Zuko, you've yet to give the impression you're able to match wits with me, much less Father," Azula said. "What's to stop him from making you run out of this tower crying?"

"Five years worth of visits, Azula," Zuko replied grimly, "have taught me the best, if not the only, way to deal with him. We have a system, that bastard and I." As the lift slowed to a stop, the benders locked the platform in place and stepped out of their foot-locks, to wait with the elevator until the party returned.

Zuko turned to his sister fully, locking with her gaze and using a low tone she'd never heard from him before. It reminded her of Ozai. "Prove to me you deserve your freedom, Sister. Trust me now, like you've never done before."

The doors opened to present a long hallway, dark and windowless. Torches gave the only illumination, flickering shadows casting black shapes along the red sandstone walls. "You're the Fire Lord," Azula said, stepping out of the lift, not waiting for her brother.

Zuko glanced back at Mat, who just rolled his eyes and followed Azula.

This floor of the tower had only one cell, at the end of the hallway. Thick steel bars contained the inmate, and there was no door. The inmate's sentence was life, and the only way out of the cell was through the spirit world. Inside the inmate stood at the exact center of the cell with his head bowed. The torchlight's shadows played across his face, hiding his features. Long, jet-black hair hung from his head in matted, waxy clumps, though his clothes were immaculately clean. Neatly stacked against the bars were empty dishes, and the bed was meticulously made. Even in prison, Ozai kept royal standards.

"All right, Father. Let's get this over with." Zuko moved to the front of the threesome, several feet from the bars. "You go first."

A low, hollow voice—like air moving through dried bone—came from inside the cell. "You shaved this morning, using not a razor but the heated blade of your Dao. You then applied extract of Fire Lilly and seal fat to your face to lessen the burn because you still cannot stand the feeling of a burn upon your face. Your pitiful excuse of a woman kissed you on your left cheek, leaving the faint imprint of rose-pink lip paint, the same paint your mother used. Your left toe is stubbed, likely you injured it this morning getting out of bed." The figure raised his head slightly, and amber eyes could be seen through the darkness of the cell. "You always were awkward in the mornings, boy. More than usual, of course."

Zuko stood impassive. "Is that it? Pretty weak, Father."

"No," The voice was different. It became a deep rumbling, like the echo of a terrible thunderstorm broiling across a wide expanse of dry grass. "You are not dressed in that costume you call a formal robe, so this cannot be a regularly scheduled visit. Of course, I knew that—you visit formally only twice a year, once during your birthday and once on the anniversary of my defeat, and it's exactly seventy-three days until one of those joyous events occur."

"Congratulations, Father." Zuko almost looked bored. His tone carried just the right amount of sarcasm, his posture holding the prefect amount of aloof superiority—Azula was impressed. "The past five years have done nothing to impair your ability to count."

"There is more." Again, a different voice. This one was swift, rushed—though each syllable was enunciated with immaculate diction. "It has also been twelve days since your last private visit, when you come in the dark of night and pace outside my cell, glaring at my back as I assume the façade of sleep. And twenty six days since your last unsanctioned visit, when you have me chained to these bars and tortured for information about your precious, misplaced mommy."

Zuko tensed ever so slightly, and Ozai pounced.

"Oh now—your jaw is twitching, Boy. Such a nasty, obvious habit you have, that jerking, twitching jaw. Much easier to hide those unsolicited shudders with a beard—but of course you knew that. Did you shave just to show me your anger on purpose, Boy? Just to let me feel victory?"

"Your feelings never crossed my mind, old man," Zuko spat. "I shaved it for Mai—because she asked me too, and because I love her. Do you know what that emotion even is, Father? Love? Can you even remember the feeling?"

"I remember Boy. I remember the soft, weak looks of love your mother gave to me moments before I revealed just how much I hated both her and her pathetic ideals. I remember the salty-sweet tears that flowed oh so freely when I told that weepy wench how I would gladly kill my failure of a son for power. I remember—"

"Enough," Zuko cut him off, his voice hard. "It's my turn now."

With a rapid series of two-fingered jabs, Zuko lit the scones that lined the inside of Ozai's cell. Azula stifled a gasp when the light reached the sickly-grinning apparition that was left of her once great Fire Lord. He was gaunt—a normally slender face stretched tight against his skull. He had lost none of his cold, unpitying demeanor, but his royal posture had been replaced with an almost feral hunch. Though beneath that wild grin and grimy bangs Azula could see the same merciless amber eyes. The same eyes that watched hundreds die, thousands suffer, and millions cry out in pain.

"Your cheeks are getting thinner," Zuko began. "You've been eating less, and hiding the rest in your chamber pot, hoping the guards would end up bringing you more. I can tell you right now that's not going to happen—I'd let you starve first."

Zuko paced outside the cage, taking in every minute detail. Ozai matched his paces step for step, like the warped reflection one would find on a fun-house mirror. "You've been growing out your nails, then filing them into points by scraping them against the stone—I can see the tops of scratch marks hidden behind your pillow. You still think you might find a way to escape, and you want to be able to kill the guards when you do."

Zuko's eyes pierced, searching his father for more signs of weakness. His father had read him just like this the first time he had come for information on his mother. Slowly, this ritual of reading and exposing weaknesses, this practice of mutual hate and distrust, had become a sort of grim competition—their very own Manasaa Kai. "Your left knee is skinned, telling me you've been crawling around in the dark, trying to find a gap in the stones. I had the World's best Earthbender make this cage, Father. You won't be getting out. Ever."

He turned his attention to the sconces. "The lights were out, and you're the only one with access to them. You still can't stand to be near the heat of fire, and the power it contains. You still can't face the fact that Aang stripped you of your firebending. You fear that which you can't control."

The feral grin returned. "Is that all, boy?"

"One more thing." Zuko let loose a small smile. Ozai grinned wider, and that's when Azula saw what her brother had noticed right away. She looked from one man to the other, shocked at both her brother's newfound analytical prowess, and at how far her father had fallen.

"Two of your back teeth are cracked—you've been gnawing at the bars again, haven't you?"

Ozai leapt forward. His jaws snapped and his claws raked between the bars of his cage, clawing at air but yearning for flesh. Azula gasped and backed away, and Mat muttered 'Jesus' beneath his breath as he moved to guard her. Only Zuko remained still, the grim smile never leaving his face.

Words came spewing forth from the cell, unintelligible and primal. Ozai seemed to speak from his throat, his chest, and his nose all at once. His voice was horrible, almost inhuman. Foam flew from his mouth and his eyes rolled wildly. With a sudden heave he threw himself from the bars, dashing his body against the floor. His shoulders heaved and shook—guttural growls coming from beneath the mass of hair and sweat and spit.

Then, just as suddenly and violently as it began, the episode passed. The tremors ceased, the mutterings softened. Ozai climbed onto his bed, flipping his hair behind his face and leaning back against the cool stone wall, his sickly smile grudgingly acknowledging that he had broken first.

"Very well, boy. You win this round. To what do I owe this aberrant visit?"

"I just wanted to show Azula where your lust for power has brought you."

"Aahhh, so it _is_ Azula," Ozai drawled in a voice that oozed passive contempt. "I almost did not recognize that hollow shell of a prodigy for what it is."

"Oh, I'm sorry—I was expecting to find my father here, not some savage animal wearing his skin." Azula raised her chin, sounding more confident than she felt. "It looks like you were right, Zuko. The higher one rises, the farther they have to fall."

"Do not act smug, Girl." Ozai hissed. "I heard from the guards all about your duel with the boy and that Water Tribe whelp." He spoke as if they were the only two there, his mind unable to deal with anything more than a one-on-one conversation. "About how you cried, and screamed, and raved for your despicable mother. How you were shipped to a freezer and sobbed, and raged, and wept for years on end. You know why you are allowed on that side of the bars? Because you are weak—not even considered to pose the smallest of threats."

"She's free because she's shown the will to change." Zuko interrupted. "She wants the chance to redeem herself, more than you ever—"

"Boy," Ozai's paternal tone was all it took to silence the Fire Lord. "One more interruption while I am speaking with my daughter, and I will take the location of your mother with me to the grave."

Zuko fell silent, he jaw clenching like a steel trap. He glared daggers at Ozai, who didn't seem to give the stare notice—so focused was he upon his daughter.

"Why go back to him, Azula? You showed so much promise, so much potential. You've always hated him and his stench of weakness, just as much as I did. What was that rhyme you came up with?" Gleefully, Ozai pitched his voice and sang like a dying child.

"_First born, second best; Azula's better than the rest! _

_First born, second best; Zuzu always fails the test!"_

"No, I want to change. I'm not that person anymore."

"_First born, second best; Zuzu never could contest!_

_First born, second best; Azula will clean up his mess!"_

"That's not me! Not anymore!" Azula's eyes were wide, her voice wavered. Mat looked to Zuko, who only turned away with clenched fists.

"Ahh, I know what you are doing, daughter dearest—you are going to gain their trust, then come in the dark of night to free me. Is that it? Come set loose the only person who ever truly cared for you, hmm?"

"You never cared about me. I just never gave you a good reason to strip me of my honor and ship me off with Uncle."

"And you are stronger for it." Ozai rose from his bed and slowly moved towards the bars, like a predator stalking in high grass. "I molded you, taught you everything you know. Look at what you accomplished—Omashu, Ba Sing Se—none of that would have happened if I had not pushed you towards perfection."

"And what did your 'perfection' bring?" Zuko shouted. "Pain, persecution and death for thousands of innocents, that's what! You sick, disgusting—"

"Ahh ahh, ahh, boy," Ozai clucked his tongue and shook a finger at his son. "Mind your place. Mommy is depending on you, remember."

Zuko fell quiet once again, seething. Ozai turned back to Azula, almost to the edge of his cage.

"You are right, you never disappointed me. Never brought me dishonor. I pushed you terribly, assigned you tasks entire armies had failed to accomplish. Tasks your brother could not even begin to comprehend. And through it all, you and your blue flame prevailed." Ozai smiled, and his voice grew soft—a serpent's forked tongue flitting in her ear. "Ahh, your pretty blue flames, how I have missed them. The glow, the heat, _the power."_

He pressed his face against the bars. "I have thought of them most of all, these five wretched years. Be a dear Azula—show Father your fire."

Azula swallowed against a dry throat. "…Oh, you'd like that. You command and I obey, like a well trained Fox Hound."

"Oh no, not you Azula. You knew who the dog was." Ozai's eyes flicked to Zuko. "He still is, you know. He might have a shiny new collar, but he still barks to the same old commands, still begs for the same treats."

"I. Do. Not. Beg." Zuko's fists shook, and smoke curled up his arms.

"Of course you do, Boy. You have been begging for five years now." Ozai moved from the bars back to his bed. He seated himself as if the thin hay mattress and metal frame were the grandest of thrones. Once again, he was in complete control. "So in my infinite generosity, I have decided to finally give you your treat. And all you need do to get back your greatest treasure is to simply relive your worst moment."

"What are you saying, Father?"

He turned back to Azula. "You remember when I taught you how to properly mark the weak, daughter of mine? Remember how you laughed at those soldier's screams, and begged me to teach you?"

"I…I was different then."

"You were strong then," Ozai's voice was sharp and hard. Like the edge of a sword, it cut through her rationale. "And you loved it. We practiced on dozens, hundreds of prisoners, did we not? But you never quite got it right… that exceptional blue fire was just too hot for those worms to bear. What do you think it was, Azula?" He smiled—a crooked, demon's smile. "Do you think your heat cooked their tiny brains? Did you sear their very souls?"

"I was different then," Azula repeated. "I was wrong."

"Who are you trying to convince? Tell me you do not still dream of it—the smell of cooking flesh, the feel of that luxurious, empowering heat pulsing in your palm. I know you must miss it as I miss it, Azula. You miss the control, the command, the independence it brought you."

Ozai looked at his daughter through his bangs. The thin, repressed smile she had known was replaced with the slack-jawed grin of a madman, but this was irrefutably her father once again. Cool, collected, and in control.

"You can feel that power again, Azula. Just as Zuko can finally find his precious mommy."

"You're speaking in circles, old man," Zuko spat. "Just tell us what you want and be done with it."

"It is simple, Fire Lord," Ozai drawled. "Azula will mark you as I had, on the other side of your so very handsome face. I always did enjoy…symmetry. Then I will tell you where your mother is, and all parties are left satisfied. You will know where Ursa fled, and I will get to see Azula's wonderful fire."

"That's insane," Azula snapped. "I won't do it. And you're crazier than I thought if you think Zuko will—"

"Azula," Zuko said quietly. "Do what he says."

"What?" Azula turned to her brother, shocked. "Zuko, I can't. Every person I marked they… they didn't survive."

"Hundreds." Ozai hissed as he rose from his place across the cage. "Thousands, maybe."

"It's the only way to get him to talk. Believe me, I've tried everything. The rack, whips, water… he won't break." Zuko turned to look at her, his face hard. "I'll do anything to find her, Azula. Anything to find Mother."

"No, don't you see? He's counting on me killing you—he wants you to die so I become Fire Lord."

"As I always intended for it to be. _First born, Second best!"_ Ozai sang.

"I won't die, Azula. I've survived a marking once, I'll survive it again." Zuko sunk to his knees before his terrified sister. "Just make it quick, and get the medics soon as you're done."

"I…No, I…" Azula was frantic, her eyes darted for a way to escape. "You don't understand, I can't—I can't…"

"Yes you can, Daughter." Ozai pressed his face against the bars. His voice rising in pitch and volume, his control slowly slipping away. "Just one mark and it is all yours again—the power, the position, all of it unquestionably yours. It is simple, just like I taught you—_remove your weakness, remove their strength."_ His face contorted into a snarl. "Now do it!"

"Do it, Azula," Zuko commanded. Azula started to back away but he grabbed her wrist and put her hand to his face. "I won't let this chance slip by. Just do it!"

"Let me go! I can't do it, let me go!" Azula struggled against her brother's grip. She looked wildly for windows, doors—anyway to escape. Suddenly she was back in her own prison, her own cage, and her father's terrible voice pressed down on her.

"Show me! Show me, Show me Show me!" Ozai was thrashing against the bars, clawing at the air. His command was terrible, his eyes wild. "I AM YOUR FATHER, I AM YOUR LIFE! YOU LIVE FOR MY DESIRE!"

"Just do it Azula!" Zuko was grabbing at his sister, tears streaming down his one good eye. "Please. Just do it now!"

Her chest constricted—Azula couldn't breathe, and her head swam. She was freezing in the cooler, wasting away with every frigid minute. She was laughing in the charred ruins of Pohuai village, delighting in the screams of helpless prisoners. She was chained to a water grate crying for Ursa, fire bursting from her mouth in crazed sobs. With a strangled scream she was falling, her eyes barely seeing the world spin and blur, her ears barely hearing the raving, the pleading, and the concerned shouting, and her head barely feeling the sudden, sharp connection to the stone floor.

There you have it—Chapter 13, and Ozai's grand entrance. Mentally abusing his son, manipulating his children, causing his daughter to lose consciousness…he's off to a pretty good start, No?

Sorry about the tardiness, I can only say that college finals are reaaaly dumb.

Comments, critiques, gripes and moans welcome, like always. Oh, and I got's a new fanart for ya:

h++.com/art/F-I-S-T-P-U-M-P-121920138 replace the +'s with t's and all that jazz. See you later!


	15. Of Of Imagery and Immolation

The Avatar Saga—Azula's redemption  
_**Chapter 14: Of **__**Imagery and Immolation**_  
By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show. I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

"Okay, so you're living up in Ireland, having a great time doing your god thing—then what?"

"_Christianity. It spread like wildfire, and what few faithful I had maintained quickly deserted me."_

"So wait, does that mean God is real?"

"_Just because faith leaves one deity does not mean it travels to another, Kouros."_

"That didn't answer my question, Old Man."

"_Almost one hundred gena__your family and I have been compacted, and almost all of you take to calling me 'Old Man'. Why is that?"_

…\/…\/…\/…

"_Long live Fire Lord Azula!"_

Azula opened her eyes to the cheering of thousands. She stood on the royal parapet atop the walls surrounding the palace. Below her, a teeming throng of citizens pulsed and moved as one body, chanting her name. She looked at herself; garbed in the red, black and gold of her forefathers' formal attire. On each side of her Li and Lo sat poised, proclaiming their new Lord to the masses.

Li began. "Long has Azula been the heart and guiding light of our great nation! She embodies the ideals we all aspire to— love, compassion, high charity."

Lo continued. "Without mercy or restraint she has burnt away our enemies, razing entire cities until naught but ash remained."

Azula turned between the two, taken aback by the conflicting messages. No one else seemed to notice the disparity, nor her shock at such contrast. The sisters moved forward with their speech.

"She has not only brought prosperity to our land of fire, but ushered in a new era of peace the world over. People across the oceans sing praises of her wisdom."

"Her searing fire burnt away all opposition. Now there is nothing but the charred husks of heathens to mark where foreign savagery once flourished."

"Without thought to herself, she helped improve the lives of others."

"With supreme intelligence, she played entire armies against themselves."

"She saved her brother's life, who then willingly abdicated the throne to his righteous and worthy sister."

"In cold blood, she killed the coward Zuko, taking back the crown that was rightfully hers all along. Resuming her place at the top of the world."

"A living saint,"

"A ruthless warlord,"

"Our savior,"

"Our tyrant,"

"AZULA!"

Again the crowd rose up. Admiration mingled with outrage to race up the stone wall and crash against her. Azula faltered and turned back, away from the teeming mob. Confused, she turned and looked into the palace. Zuko was kneeling on the ground, looking up at her with the same expression he had when begging Ozai for forgiveness, all those years ago.

"All you have to do is kill him, my sweet." Azula turned her head to the great face of a dragon, hovering over her left shoulder. It was black as night, with obsidian scales and amber eyes, and it drawled in a way that dripped with dangerous and deadly power. "Just kill him and all you see before you can be yours. You will stand equal to none, as a goddess above men." Azula could feel familiar heat licking her palm, and she looked down to see the coveted blue fire once again at her command.

"All you have to do is kill me, Azula." Somehow Zuko was before her on the wall, his head pressed to the cold stone. He looked up, and both sides of his face were hideously scared. "Please kill me. Then you can find Mother, and save the world."

"There's no reason not to," The dragon spoke again, "You will have every wish fulfilled, your hunger finally satiated. You will at last be atop the world—no one will ever command you again."

"I won't do it." Azula trembled before the immense beast, but she stood firm. To look away now would be weakness, failure. Death. "I don't want power any more, that hunger is gone." She gripped her flaming arm, trying to stem the flow of firebending that was slowly covering her entire body. The Azure inferno continued to spread, consuming her both body and soul.

"It's the only way, Azula." Zuko was a dragon now. Just as large as the other but colored a dull, tarnished gold. He hovered opposite the ebony monster, his scaled face still carrying the horrible scar. "Only by killing me can you reach your goals. You have to do it, you have no choice."

"No. She will always have a choice." A third voice broke in now, coming from high above. Azula looked to the sky, but couldn't discern the figure through its halo of intense light. Slowly the light descended level with the rampart, hovering over the crowd below.

"That is your gift for five years of suffering," The light spoke. "The ability to choose. As long as there is breath in your body, either path is yours to take."

"But what do I do?" Azula shouted over the roar her fire created. "Both paths lead me to a place I don't want to go."

"Then you walk a third." The light spoke. And out of the whiteness, a hand extended. The flames that consumed her were pulled from her body, flowing into the light and delivering her safe from temptation. "It will be the hardest path to tread, but it leads away from other's death. It requires one thing—trust. You must trust your fate to another; you must relent and allow the people around you to help shape the trail ahead."

"I don't know if I can do that… I don't know if I can trust."

"That is why you are here." The hand gestured to the wall. "No path is inescapable, but only at this very moment is the third available. Should you forsake it now, it will be lost forever."

"Then I don't have a choice at all, do I?"

"You will always have a choice, Princess."

Azula paused, then reached forward. Her arm stretched, and she had to lean over the battlement. "I can't reach you! Come closer or I'll fall!"

"Trust." The light said.

So Azula continued to lean forward. Just as she grasped the hand she fell, tumbling over the rampart wall and taking the light with her. And so they fell together, into the upraised hands of the crowd.

And all was quiet, once again.

………………………………………………………………

"Princess, Princess, are you ok? Come on Princess, please. Wake up."

Azula's eyes fluttered open to three things—the red sandstone of the ceiling, the dull pain throbbing through the back of her head, and Mat's worried face hovering above her own.

"Mat…? What…?"

"You had an episode." Zuko said softly. He was gently resting her head on his knee, tired relief on his face. "Azula... I shouldn't have pushed you like that."

"So she really has grown soft." Ozai spat from his cage. He had not yet regained complete control, and was just barely retaining what civility he had left. "Such a disappointment, you two are. I have sired a brood of weaklings."

"That's enough. You will stop spewing this poison _**now**_." Mat's voice wasn't loud, but it cut through Ozai's rant without compromise. The Madman paused, taking attention of the Phoenix for what seemed to be the first time.

"You! Get away from here—can't you see this is a purely familial conflict?" Ozai cackled—his laugh high and piercing—until he fell out of breath. He left off staring darkly at Mat, his chest wheezing dryly. "Fly…fly away, little Phoenix, little Outsider. Fly fly fly… fly fly fly…"

"You put an embargo on Zuko's rage, not mine." Mat rose and moved to the cage. "I'll be with you in a moment, now back off." He raked his hand across the bars—sparks showering from his fingertips and sending Ozai growling back to his bed, a tiger moose momentarily scared off with a burning torch. Mat knelt back down to Azula. Zuko had helped her into a sitting position and supported her in a sort of half hug.

"You okay?"

Gold eyes met green, and she nodded, slowly. Mat returned the nod, than met gazes with Zuko.

"I'm going to get your answer out of him, but it won't be pretty. It's gonna be… well, could you take her out of here?" Zuko nodded and rose, helping Azula to her feet.

"N…no." Azula gripped Mat's haori, her knuckles white. "I want to see it happen. I want to see him…lose."

Mat gazed at her for a beat, then nodded. He turned back to Ozai, who had recovered from his savagery and was back in control once again. He sat on his bed, gazing at Mat with cool contempt. "Come on then, Outsider. Let us see what boon you posses that will get me to talk. I the anticipation is simply killing me."

Mat stood, his back to the brother and sister. He bowed his head for a moment, as if in prayer. "Please…Don't fault me for what I'm about to do."

Azula couldn't tell, but for a moment she felt he had said it to her. Before she could think on it though, his head was raised and her focus turned with his upon her father.

"So you've been tortured, huh? Whipped, bled, drowned, and every other type of physical anguish this world has invented?" Mat had shut off everything around himself—now he only had eyes for Ozai.

Just as Ozai had eyes only for him. "All tried and failed."

"But I guess no one has tried an attack on your mind?"

"Few would dare, Outsider." Ozai's eyes glinted dangerously.

"You'll find I'm few and far between." Mat withdrew from his pocket a bundle of white cloth. "Your world has many interesting things—elemental manipulation, fused animals, even certain…objects." He unwrapped the cloth slowly, with a deliberate pace. "I honestly thought the only place with items like this was Eberron, where I was trained. Imagine my surprise when I found this little beauty in the catacombs of old Ba Sing Se."

Mat removed the last of the cloth, pocketing it. What lay in his hand was no longer than a wooden playing card, and about as wide. It was a crystal, colored a vibrant green and illuminated by what seemed to be a pulsing, internal light. "Most of your world's crystals are mundane—little more than pieces of rock. Others, like those found beneath the walled city, emit light. And of those, a select few…" He held the crystal up to his face, and Ozai could see his eyes pulse in time with the prism's light. "Are psionic."

"Forgive me if I am not overly impressed," Ozai drawled. He slowly looked over the man and the pulsing crystal, deciding that it was just another elaborate show meant to intimidate him into giving something away. "But you will have to add some substance to all that flash, boy, if you are to have hope of scaring me."

"Apologies, allow me to demonstrate." Mat closed his fist around the crystal and shut his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed. The cracks between his fingers showed a brilliant flash and Mat exhaled a billow of steam, slowly opening his eyes. Imperceptivity he had changed—his eyes were dangerous, his body tense, and his knuckles cracked around the gem.

He hungered.

"This nifty piece of crystal ups the powers I don't use very much." He waved the prism over the bars. Protesting with a mechanical groan they snapped and bent, leaving a sizable hole in the steel that Mat stepped through, his grin dark. "Like my Psychokinesis."

Ozai crouched on the bed, his hackles raised. He was losing himself again, the feral personality resurfacing and taking control. With a snarl he pounced, ready to rake Mat with his sharpened nails and escape through the bars.

The crystal pulsed, and Ozai went slamming against the wall. The crack of bone was audible, and Azula knew at least one of his ribs was broken. She turned to her brother, who looked on in wary silence. Zuko had never seen this side of Mat—he knew his friend enjoyed a good fight, but he'd never before taken such pleasure in causing a person pain.

Mat moved to the wall, where Ozai struggled against invisible bonds. The crystal pulsed again and he dropped to the floor. Mat stood over the panting heap, lifting the crystal above Ozai's head. He spoke with a strange voice, seeming to feed on the prisoner's fear. "You will give me your knowledge, Ozai. Your truths, your lies, your secrets—I will know everything you wish to hide, and you will suffer for obstructing my justice."

Grasping the crystal like a dagger, Mat slowly plunged the prism into the crown of Ozai's head. There was no blood, and no sound escaped Ozai's lips—the only indication he felt anything at all was how his eyes rolled into his skull and how his tongue lolled out of his mouth. The crystal seemed to sink into nothingness, and for a moment, there was silence.

Then it vanished completely into his forehead, and all hell broke loose.

A ghostly green light enveloped the cage, and the disgraced Fire Lord screamed. Azula was brought to her knees by the noise, Zuko quickly falling by her side. It was the worst sound she had ever heard, as if her father's very mind was crying out in pain. It wasn't the sort of scream that came from physical pain—this was an entirely mental anguish. Ozai's brain was being invaded, pillaged, and essentially destroyed by Mat's telepathy.

And through it all, The Phoenix laughed. Colored by that unhealthy green light, Mat's laugh illuminated his face, filling it with an unnatural vigor and a sadistic pleasure. His unearthly delight deeply contrasted with Ozai's anguished shrieks, yet the two sounds mingled together and fed off each other, growing stronger and rising in volume until Azula thought her eardrums would burst.

After too many agonizing moments of this dreadful duet Mat withdrew the crystal from Ozai's head, and the ghastly light disappeared as if snuffed from a candlestick. The quiet that followed was almost as bad as the clamor before—the only sounds to be heard were Ozai's pained gasps and remnants of Mat's terrible laugh—sporadic, pitiless chuckles that flew from his mouth like wolf bats leaving a cave to feast. Still billowing steam from his mouth Mat looked down at the drained man, and in that alien, incongruous voice, giggled. "So that's where she went to? How _interesting_."

He seized Ozai by the collar and pulled him roughly to his feet, slamming the man against the wall. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it? There was no physical pain—no bruises or blood. A much cleaner method of interrogation, wouldn't you say?" he paused, taking Ozai's whimpers as an actual response. "What's that, you say you _want_ some physical pain? Well it's only right, I suppose—your world is all about balance."

"Mat." Zuko struggled to his feet. "If you have the information, we should just leave. I'll call the medics and—"

"No." Mat's voice was chorded, chaotic—as if two people were speaking from the same mouth. His eyes still pulsed and flashed in time with the crystal, and as he spoke it's tempo increased. "Who are we to deprive this man of the sweet release only pain can provide? Where's the justice in that?"

"Mat, we need to go. Now." Zuko moved to the bars, intent on collecting his friend and leaving for good.

"NO!"Without looking Mat threw a hand at his advancing friend. Again the crystal pulsed, and Zuko was flung backwards until he met forcefully with unyielding stone, banging his head and slumping to the ground, dazed. "I'M NOT FINISHED YET!"

"Zuko!" Azula rushed to her brother, who slowly sat up with a groan. Her fingers danced across his head, searching for fractures. Luckily, he had a thick skull—the worst of his injuries was a split scalp. She helped him to his feet, and together they hobbled back to the cage where Mat was yelling in Ozai's ear.

"Do you know what immolate means, Title-Stealer?" Mat was shaking Ozai, banging his brain against the wall again and again. "Immolate, verb: To kill as a sacrificial victim, as by fire." Mat stopped shaking, his face inches from the bleeding and broken scalp of the man who stole his name. He whispered soothingly, as if putting a child to bed. "A justly end, don't you think? For a man who sacrificed boys to win a battle, his son's childhood to teach him a warped lesson in respect, and his daughter's psyche for his own twisted pleasure?"

Flames licked Mat's hands and spread from his grip on Ozai's collar to the rest of his body. The man screamed, true terror griping him for the second time in his life. But this was different—this adversary wasn't a pacifistic child, focused merely on ending his campaign of ash and fire—Ozai's life was hanging by the whim of a stranger, one possessed by power and holding no qualms about killing him right then and there. Tears streamed out of his eyes, and for the first time in his life, he begged.

"Mercy… please… Mercy."

"Oh, don't worry Ozai." Mat's smile became positively evil. "You'll barely feel a thing."

A thick curtain of flames sprung forth from the crystal, drenching Ozai in a baptismal fire. His instinctual scream was cut short as heated air filled his lungs, searing his chest from the inside out. His skin bubbled and hissed, his hair incinerated in a matter of seconds. He was a dead man.

In a flash, his children appeared. Azula tackled Mat, knocking the crystal from his grasp and dashing both of them against the bed. As if a switch had been flipped, the flames vanished. Zuko ran forward and bent the heat from around his father's body through his and out of the cage, causing the steel bars to glow a dull red from the passing energy. Ozai collapsed, quickly falling into the blissful escape of deep shock.

Mat scrambled off the bed, his eyes wildly searching for the crystal. "Where is it! Give it to me, I need it!"

Azula pinned him down, barely managing to keep him on the floor. He didn't even realize she was on top of him—so focused was he on finding his crystal. "I need it! Give it back, I neeeed it!" tears filled his eyes, and his voice came out in a frantic, tired whine. Sweat streamed from his pores, and as Azula noted that for the first time since she knew him, it didn't turn immediately into steam. Suddenly, his will seemed to desert him, and Mat collapsed against the ground, his entire body convulsing in violent seizures.

As Zuko ran for medics Azula stayed with Mat, trying to keep his quaking under control. Finally, the shaking stopped, and he slowly drifted into unconsciousness. Before he did, his closing eyes came to rest on Azula, who looked back with a mixture horror, pity, concern, and fear.

"I'm…so cold..."

……………………………………………

Like a stirred fire-ant hill, the prison tower came alive with activity. Ozai was rushed to the infirmary, where a coalition of Fire Nation medics and Water Tribe healers struggled to keep him alive. Mat was given his own bed, where he circled through a wretched cycle of furiously calling for heat, shaking uncontrollably, sobbing incoherently, and vomiting into a bucket someone had the foresight to place next to him.

Amidst the flurry of frenzied movement, no one took notice of a lone guard making his way to Ozai's cage. No one saw him inspect the damage Mat had caused, and there was no one to stop him from retrieving the now dull-green crystal from beneath the ruins of Ozai's bed. The figure moved unhindered to a quiet and isolated alcove on one of the tower's many floors, and just like before, no one saw him press his palm to the wall, bending the stone with ease and passing the crystal, along with a note, to a figure on the other side.

"_They seek the Mother, like you thought. They have a starting point to search—prepare for their arrival. And the Phoenix… his wings can indeed be clipped." _

_Here ends episode 5_

_Φορ __ἱ__ς ακτιονς, θερε ωιλλ βε α ρεκονινγ..._

…\/…\/…\/…

So there you have it! Major info revealed about Mat's powers here… sorry if you're not into that, but It's gotta be explained eventually.

Just in case there's any confusion… "Gena" is ancient greek for "generation". Just thought you should know.

Review docket is 6/10. Four more till bonus chapter!!


	16. Of Firebending and Forges

The Avatar Saga—Azula's redemption  
_**Chapter 15: Of **__**Firebending and Forges**_  
By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

"Wait, did you mean a pact, like a contract? Does this mean my parents can get me outta this with a good enough lawyer?"

"_As my power began to fade, I revealed myself to your clan's chief several centuries ago. An accord was reached—access to my title as Musagetes and all it entails, for the eldest son of every generation to continue my work."_

"…So that's a no on the lawyer thing then…"

_Here begins Episode 6_

_Ρευελατιονς αβουνδ...ανδ τ__ἑ__ φιναλ σκενες αρε σετ..._

…\/…\/…\/…

Mid afternoon, and the mood was tense on the palace grounds. A day ago, Fire Lord Zuko had rushed into the palace, shouting for Katara. He spirited her back to the prison tower before anyone could get a word in edgewise. Ozai and Mat lay waiting there, desperately needing treatment in the infirmary.

After a few hours of work, Katara had sent Zuko back to the palace with Azula, both to keep him from hovering over his father, and to get Azula away from Mat. The siblings hadn't left the patient's sides, and it was becoming increasingly hard to treat them.

And so they returned to the palace, with short explanations and even shorter tempers. The night came and left, followed shortly by Zuko's patience. Sokka and Aang had to physically stop him from going back to the prison. They assured him that he'd only get in the way, that Katara was doing everything she could to save his father.

The group now gathered in Zuko's sitting room. At the time the room's name could be considered ironic, as only Suki, Mai, and Toph were actually sitting. Zuko paced, wearing a line in the thick rug decorating the floor. Mai had originally attempted to keep him relaxed, but had relented now to simply follow his impatient movement with her eyes. Aang meditated in lotus position with Sokka beside him, leaning against a wall. Sokka and Suki had tried engaging the others in conversation, but eventually they too succumbed the oppressive mood in the room, and now sat along with everyone else in tense silence. Using a deeply honed unobtrusive grace, Kerji moved to and fro through the room, bringing food and drink for the Senken without them even needing to call for her.

Azula stood alone, roughly in a corner of the room. Toph almost tore her apart when she and Zuko had first returned, and now wouldn't stop glaring in her direction with those milky, off-green eyes. It wasn't like Azula couldn't handle the stare—she'd been stared at her whole life—but Toph had told her, no, practically threatened her, not to let any harm come to Mat or Zuko as they visited Ozai. And doing so, even unintentionally, gave Azula an uncomfortable, twisting feeling. One that she hadn't felt in more years than she cared to count.

Guilt.

With a series of chatters, Momo raised his head from Aang's lap. The other's looked at the door just as a very tired, very spent Katara entered the room. That she had stayed up all night was obvious, the circles under her eyes all but screamed it. There was a pungent aroma of herbs and poultices around her, and the deep blues of her robes were stained red and black by blood. Slowly, she pulled the door closed behind her and leaned against it, closing her eyes and resting for a moment, glad for the first inklings of peace she'd had in over a day.

A peace that was quickly broken—Zuko all but pounced as soon as the door shut. "How is he?"

Katara sighed before speaking in a clinical, detached voice that stemmed just as much from her training as it did from her exhaustion. "Second and third degree burns almost everywhere, the only skin Mat didn't burn were the soles of his feet. Eyebrows, hair, eyelashes—all permanently gone. He's severely dehydrated from the heat. We had to keep him awake so we could get water into him, but he refused to drink anything when he realized some of us were waterbenders."

"Will he be alright? Will he live?"

"If the spirits will it. You're lucky you have waterbenders working at the prison or he would have been dead before I got there. I got rid of the charred skin, and closed all the wounds I could. Now it's a matter of keeping away infection, and regular healing sessions from the staff." Katara sighed and tucked stray strands of hair behind her ears. "He'll be horribly scarred, though, virtually unrecognizable."

"There's a kind of sick irony in all this," Sokka remarked, "he marked half of your face, and Mat marked all of his body."

Zuko rounded on him. "I didn't ask him to do it. I didn't need revenge."

Sokka put up his hands defensively. "Hey, I'm not saying you did, I—"

Suki interrupted, trying to steer the conversation away. "What about Mat? Is he going to be okay?"

"…I don't know…" Katara moved to Aang and sat heavily against him. She smiled tiredly to Kerji, who brought her a cup of water. "He came to soon after you left. We moved him to a separate room; I didn't want to take any chances with the two of them together. Mood swings, vomiting, shakes, one second he'd insist he was fine, then the next he was writhing in pain… It was like he was going through withdrawals from a potent drug. He wouldn't tell us what happened—just kept calling for more heat, like that was supposed to help."

"I tell you what happened. He went crazy, that's what happened." Zuko resumed pacing. "He pulled out that crystal, then took a flying leap off the deep end—didn't care who he hurt."

"Zuko, please." Mai said quietly.

"So he's awake?" Toph asked. "I can go see him?"

Katara nodded. "All he said was that he needed heat. We didn't really have a reason to keep him there, so he left for the forge. I'm guessing he's still there. Toph—I don't know if he wants to see anyone right now, he seemed pretty disconnected when I released him this morning."

"Good." Toph rose from the ground and moved to the door. "I need to give someone a swift kick in the butt—might as well be him."

Toph exited the room and for a while, everyone was quiet. Momo placed himself in Katara's lap and pushed his head into her palms. She scratched his ears absentmindedly, too tired to smile at his contented purr.

"It was strange…" She murmured. "Mat had all the signs of going through withdrawals, but when I searched his body for traces of addiction, I couldn't find anything. Normally I can at least feel what parts of the body are suffering, and then I know what drug the person is addicted too. But this time, it was like his body wasn't addicted to anything."

"That's because it wasn't." Azula spoke from her corner, meeting Katara's gaze and feeling the others turning their attention to her. "That crystal didn't poison his body, it poisoned his mind."

"None of this would have happened if you had just done as I asked." Zuko stopped pacing and glared at his sister. "All this could have been avoided if you had just listened to me, like you promised you'd do!"

Azula stood firm. "I'm not going to apologize, Zuko. You were wrong to ask me to do that, and I won't explain myself to you."

"Explain to us then," Mai said quietly, "What happened yesterday morning?"

"You want to know what happened? I had finally struck a bargain for information on Mother with that scum when she." Zuko jabbed his finger. "Screwed it up. All you had to do was listen to him, listen to me. But you wouldn't do it, would you Azula? You're just too damn proud."

"I couldn't do it Zuko," Azula raised her voice to match his, nervous tension creeping upon her. "You would have died, just like he wanted. I couldn't mark you!"

The room was silent. Azula wanted to be anywhere but that room. From her corner she raised her chin, refusing to back down. Zuko just kept glaring, ignoring the shocked faces of his friends.

"…What?" Aang eased Katara off of him, turning his full attention to the young Fire Lord.

"Zuko." Mai's eyes narrowed. "What exactly was this 'bargain' you made?"

He answered without shifting his gaze. "Father said that if Azula marked me, opposite my scar, than he would tell me where Mother is."

Sokka blanched. "Man, that is twisted."

"He really is evil," Suki breathed, "I always thought he was a horrible, terrible man, but this… telling his daughter to scar his son?" She looked at Sokka. "I don't think there's any humanity left in him."

"Zuko," Mai's voice was hard. "How could you agree to that? How do you even know he would have told you the truth?"

"Don't you see?" Zuko rounded on the others, tripping over his words. "I will do anything, anything, to find my mother. If there is even the slightest chance of gaining a lead, I'll take it. That bastard has withstood everything I can throw at him for five years now. Five years! This was a one of a kind chance." He glared back at Azula. "And you blew it. I told you I could have taken another mark. I've lived through one before, I could have handled it."

Azula shook her head. "No, you couldn't have. I told you, no one ever survived my marks; you would have died, no matter how strong you think you are. Besides I can't… I couldn't do that to you. Not anymore."

"Well at least one person in that cage wasn't crazy." Suki looked at Azula, and while the Princess saw that her look wasn't exactly comforting, it was at least empathetic. "You were in an impossible situation. Of course you wouldn't—"

"Wait." Aang interrupted. "That's not what she said."

He turned to her. Azula was a bit taken back by the change in him. She had known the Avatar to be a young, if capable fighter during the war. But before her stood an arbitrator, a tall man with corded muscles and terrible strength, who kept all that power beneath an exterior of composure and enlightenment. She could see that the childish demi-god she once traded blows with was now a fully realized Avatar—a man who had made peacekeeping his life, who always put other's before himself.

"You never said wouldn't, you said couldn't. Azula… you can't firebend, can you?"

Again, all the eyes were on her. Azula faced them, cursing herself for backing into a corner—there was no way to avoid it. Already, she could feel Zuko advancing.

"You can't bend? Why wasn't I told before we went to the prison?"

"I… I thought Mat told everyone as soon as we arrived." She looked over the room. Even the servant, Kerji, was staring at her. "You all really didn't know?"

"He knew you couldn't bend, and he didn't tell us? What other secrets is that Son-of-Koh hiding? What else haven't you told me?"

"Zuko I—"

"I don't want to hear it." Zuko threw up his arms in anger while turning away in frustration. "Get out of my palace, Azula. I don't even want to look at you."

Mai rose and took Zuko by the arm. "Come on." She began moving to the door, half steering, half dragging him. "Let's go for a walk."

"And tell Mat not to bother coming back." Zuko shouted, "he isn't welcome here anymore. I don't want to see either of you again!"

"_Come on_, Zuko."

The door closed. For a beat, no one spoke. Katara broke the silence.

"…He just needs some time to cool off."

"Or at least climb back down from furious outrage to grumbling discontentment." Sokka grinned. "Don't sweat it, Azula. I've lost count of all the times he's thrown me out. At least he didn't try to set you on fire."

Suki elbowed him. "Not helping, Sokka." She turned. "He'll come around. Zuko doesn't always think before he talks, but he never stays mad for long… his conscience won't let him."

"His conscience or his girlfriend?" Sokka joked before getting another elbow from Suki.

"He's worried about Ursa." Aang stood. "He's had five years of disappointment, and Mat's dream gave him the first ray of hope in a long time. The strain of not being able to leave the city and go searching himself is starting to get to him, though that's still no excuse to take it out on you. I'll talk to him."

It was overwhelming, this sudden comfort. Azula knew it wasn't pity—she'd been reading people long enough to know what pity looked like. No, this was genuine concern, something she was very unused to receiving.

"Thank…Thank you."

Katara smiled and rose to stand with Aang, interlacing her fingers with his. "All the same though, you should probably go tell Mat to lay low for a while. The last thing we need is a _real_ fight between those two."

"Just wait," Suki said as everyone filed out of the room. "We'll bring him around. Worst comes to worse, Toph can just trap him in the dirt until he agrees to stop being stupid."

………………………………………

It started with his footsteps.

They were quick and sporadic—like a caged animal prowling its prison. But beneath the shuffling and nervous energy, she felt the familiarity in his tread, and honed in on it like a beacon. She could find all her friends this way—be it Twinkle Toes with his steps so light he almost flew, or Sugar Queen with her fluid, even pace.

Toph worked her way through the city, and as she moved the picture became clearer. His muscles were tight and knotted—she could feel the tremors, the spasms of tendons and ligaments rife throughout his body, silently screaming in pain.

She paid only vague attention to the people she passed. As expected, the town was running wild with rumors and gossip. Everyone seemed to have a different story about what exactly had happened yesterday in the prison tower. Their theories filled her ears, each one more ridiculous than the last.

Suddenly the townspeople's gossip fell quiet. Toph's ears picked up the tell-tale sound of an inferno exploding forth into the air. Five years ago, such a large amount of flame was a sound of the enemy—a sound to be feared and avoided at all cost. Now though, the roar of the fire and the fwooshes of burning air sounded like a cry for help, someone desperately trying to come to terms with what they'd done the only way they knew how.

She continued towards the steps and the spasms, and as she walked her ears told her more than she cared to know. The flares that seared the sky were coming farther apart, but each one was of a greater intensity than the last. Toph quickened her pace—if Mat kept taking in more heat than he could handle, the effects would be disastrous.

Without knocking or waiting for an invitation, Toph pushed open the door to the forge. Despite thinking she was prepared, a small gasp still escaped her lips when her foot connected with the floor of the forge, finally giving her a clear picture of his heartbeat. Toph read heartbeats the way other people read faces. A frown became a dull thud, embarrassment quick flutter-beats. She could sort out lies from truth, love from hate, and comfort from pain.

Mat's heart beat out all those things, along with a thousand other feelings. He was caught in a maelstrom of emotions, most of them negative. Toph felt him turn to face her as she entered, and she was reminded of the way the tiger wolves sized up zookeepers in Ba Sing Se Zoo when they entered the pen for feeding time. Immediately she used earthbending to close the forge's firepot, putting an end to his self-abuse. An almost feral growl reached her ears, and she could feel all that rage and hate begin to move in her direction. Toph didn't back down, and matched his advance step-for-step.

With one stomp she sunk his leg shin-deep into the floor. The other leg quickly followed. His momentum kept him moving, and as soon as Toph felt Mat's palms connect with the ground to catch himself, she trapped those too.

"Damnit, just leave me alone!"

Toph knew her reply was pivotal. At this crucial stage in their relationship, she was the only one who could bring him back from the brink of hopelessness and insanity he teetered upon. She was the only one who could say something, and she had to say it now.

"You know what, Bird-boy? You really look like shit."

Through his heartbeat she felt the anger falter, and the barest bits of humor flickered to life. The Phoenix gave a short, barking laugh, before looking up at Toph.

"Like you've ever seen what shit looks like, Bandit." The earth around his hands glowed red, and he wrenched them free with a few sharp tugs, sending hot shards of stone in all directions. With a frustrated sigh, he sat back and looked up at Toph expectantly.

"Well, you gonna let my legs go or what?"

"I think I'll let you cool your heels for a while, preferably several cun underground." Toph smiled grimly as she inspected the forge. "Nice little barbeque you've got going here, Mat. Was I going to get an invitation to your funeral, or were you just counting on us sweeping up your ashes sometime this evening?"

"…I don't know what you're talking about."

"Give it up, or I'll sink you down to your nose," Toph said flatly as she circled the room. "I could smell your skin burning from the palace; I know what you're doing in here."

"You've got no idea what I'm doing in here," Mat spat, what little good humor Toph had created quickly going up in smoke, "you don't know anything about me."

"Well it's not for lack of trying," Toph shot back, "but that's not important right now. What's important is that whatever happened in that cell has you scared. Scared enough to try burying your fears beneath your own charred and steaming body."

The only reply her blunt truth garnered was a terse grunt. Toph felt his body tense as he tried to pull his feet free from the ground. A small amount of softness found its way into her hardened tone. "Now I may not know everything about you, but I do know you. You wouldn't be this upset unless whatever happened in that cell was somehow your fault, so please…" Toph completed her circle and was once again in front of Mat. She knelt down. Her voice was gentle.

"…Let me in…"

…………………………………..

Walking through the streets of Capital city alone was different compared to her trips to and from the prison. Without the company of the Fire Lord or the White Phoenix, Azula found people were much less respectful. They either didn't recognize her, something she was secretly thankful for, or they did and gave her looks ranging from mild disapproval to outright hostility. Through it all, Azula kept her head high. She was still the Princess, and showing weakness to commoners was simply unthinkable. She chose instead to ignore just the people around her completely, focusing instead on finding the forge—and Mat along with it.

She wouldn't admit it to anyone, but she had planned on finding Mat before Katara had even suggested it. Whether Azula wanted it or not, at the moment he was her constant, her anchor. She wasn't sure how to deal with the Senken's compassion, and she didn't want to deal with Zuko's rage—at least with Mat, she would find neither.

Azula wasn't sure where exactly the forge was—any metalworking she had needed done during the war had been handled by her father's royal craftsman. Still, it was beneath her to ask a commoner for directions, so she instead contented herself to simply walk the streets, taking twists and turns whenever the mood took her.

Her thoughts were distracted by a startled commotion coming from people around her. Azula looked up just in time to see enormous gout of flame arc into the sky, its point of origin hidden behind rows of buildings.

"_Well at least_," She thought dryly, "_The rage isn't directed at me."_

The forge was a sturdy, nondescript building at the corner of what was normally a busy intersection. However most of the wagons, palanquins, and people had stopped or slowed to watch and gossip about the building, along with who was undoubtedly inside it. As Azula moved through the crowd, she caught snatches of conversation.

"…heard he came stumbling in, eyes wild and shaking…"

"…swatting at himself like there were bugs all over him…"

"…made everyone leave the building, shouting like a madman…"

Conversation faltered when out of a side window another column of flame roared to life. Azula paused at the front of the crowd to watch the fire rocket skyward and she, along with everyone else, missed the door of the forge open and close. The voice that accosted her however, was unmistakable.

"Oh great, what are you doing here?"

Azula faced the young woman who stood in front of the door with her arms crossed, almost guarding it.

"You know why I'm here, Toph."

"Of course I do, it was a rhetorical question, Princess Platypus Bear." Toph placed her hands on her hips, not caring as the crowd's attention slowly shifted to the two women. "Don't you think you've done enough damage?"

"I'm not here to fight."

"That's what you're going to be doing if you go in there; he's not in the best of moods. Whatever happened in that cell messed him up. Bad."

People were whispering amongst themselves, the gossip that had been burning through the city coming together with the conversation before them. Now everyone knew just who Azula was. People were backing away from her, leaving a small circle of cobblestone between themselves and the Princess. Once again, she was alone.

"What did you do in there? What did you do to mess him up like this?"

"I…I…" Azula was trapped. Torn between telling the truth about her firebending to Toph and hiding her weakness from the commoners, she felt the sickeningly familiar tightness creeping into her chest. Her vision doubled, then tripled. People seemed to melt and swirl around her as she staggered, clutching at her chest, struggling to breathe. She was starting to go under, and wondered briefly if there was anyone this time that cared enough to help her.

Another burst of fire reared forth from the window, catching several by surprise and causing the entire crowd to shift again. This inexorably moved people closer to Azula, and amid their protests, pushed them against the faltering princess. Toph shouted and tried to reach her, but the mass of bodies was too thick for the blind girl to move through. The only thing keeping Azula upright were the people pressed against her, though they were trying their best to get away. It wouldn't be long before she fell, only to be crushed beneath the teeming throng.

Suddenly, the crowd's attention shifted yet again when a piercing cry sounded through the skies. A shadow passed over the square, and many squinted at the sun, where a shape could be seen moving towards the forge with incredible speed.

Through the panic gripped recesses of her mind Azula recognized that cry, and looked up just in time to see Fenghuang soar towards the column of fire. The bird was at least triple its size during the bandit attack, now easily matching some of the larger Ostrich Horse's Azula had seen in the Earth Kingdom. Fenghuang swooped upon the fire like an eagle diving at a fish, her talons extended and curved beak open. The flames bent and coiled around the animal, sinking in between her feathers and disappearing beneath her flesh. She cut through the column, and the people scrambled to move as the great bird touched cobblestone, shaking embers off of her long, graceful wings.

Fenghuang moved straight to Azula. The Princesses collapsed against the bird, the warmth radiating from her body familiar and comforting, relaxing Azula's breathing and clearing her head. Fenghuang dipped her head to rest on Azula's shoulder, and the two stood still for a moment, not moving.

"Mat made that thing, didn't he?" Toph moved to the bird, surprise evident from her voice.

Azula lifted her head. "Is that a rhetorical question too?"

Toph's face was unreadable, half hidden beneath long raven bangs. "…You can go in if you want, but I can't promise he'll be happy to see you. He was barely happy to see me." She turned and walked through the silent crowd, back to the palace.

"Just try not to screw things up any more than you already did, Platypus."

…\/…\/…\/…


	17. Of Healing and Hunger

The Avatar Saga—Azula's redemption  
_**Chapter 16: Of Healing and Hunger**_  
By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

"Alright, well this dream, or hallucination, or whatever it is has been fun and all, but I'm ready to wake up now."

"_There is no going back, Matthias. Not until your labor is complete. "_

"Don't call me that. My name is Matthew. Matthew Clerius Ap—"

"_Your name now, and forever shall be, Matthias Apollon Musagetes. That is your name. This is your task. There will be no more family, no more friends, and no more home. There will only be you, me, the Pythia, and Mimema. Only the Source remains."_

…\/…\/…\/…

Azula entered the forge, drawing an involuntary breath at the rooms stifling temperature. The windows and vents were closed to keep in the heat, and in the dusty light Azula saw bags of coal stacked against the walls. Chunks of the sooty rocks crunched beneath her shoes as she stepped deeper into the room, sweat already seeping from her skin. Against one wall was a workbench and countertop, littered with blacksmithing tools left unused—at the moment the building was being used not for creation, but rather as a means of self-destruction.

The back wall supported the forge itself—and facing it was Mat. He worked in only his sooty, white pants, barefoot and shirtless. His skin was flushed a pale, unhealthy red. She thought his back looked waxy and cracked, like a heavy candle after being dropped onto cold stone. He moved like a man possessed, shoveling more and more coal into the hearth until it pilled and brimmed and tumbled over onto the floor.

"Is the bird back?" His voice was shaky, and he seemed skittish and unsettled, like an animal ready to bolt.

"She just flew down." Azula watched as he moved to the bellows and pumped, abusing the wooden piston until she thought it would break. "She's grown. By a lot."

Mat didn't say anything. The coals in the hearth had grown white-hot; the temperature in the room now nearly unbearable. With one last push he rose from the bellows and placed his hands over the hottest part of the firepot. Heat streamed into his body. Sparks scraped up his arms, creating shallow cuts that were self-cauterized within seconds.

"You wanna know why?" He sighed as the heat raced into his body, like a man in an opium den getting his fix. "It's 'cause this whole damn country is nothing but volcanoes, and Fenghuang feeds on fire." Mat grit his teeth, his comfort turning to pain as he withdrew more heat than he could handle. "She's had the easy life here—just soaring around on thermals and munching on volcanoes, not a damn care in the world."

Azula watched his shoulders shake and his arms tremble as Mat pushed his hands closer to the fire. "But Volcanoes are full of gasses and fumes—they don't make for great phoenix food." He threw his head back and laughed, tears turning to steam as they rolled down his face.

"So she came here." His eyes rolled like a skittish Ostrich Horse and spittle flew from his lips. "She felt the only source of clean, smokeless fire for miles around and came running for a free handout." Mat jerked his arms out of the hearth, and hissing, strode to the shuttered window.

"Here, you flaming peacock! Take it, just take it!" Mat threw open the window and launched his hands forward. Out of his palms spewed forth tremendous gouts of flame that raced skywards, shooting through the clouds and sending onlookers scattering for cover. Azula heard the shrill of Fenghuang's call and the heavy beating of her wings as she took to the air, moving into the path of the blaze and absorbing it.

For a full minute, Mat stood there with elbows locked, fire arching skyward. He ranted, roared and raved until he had no choice but to draw breath, then picked up somewhere between a chortle and a sob. Slowly the blaze began to shrink, reduced eventually to a pitiful sputtering of sparks that cascaded from his fingertips and onto the road outside. Mat dropped his arms, his body falling against the windowsill for support.

For a time, no sound was heard save for the beats of Fenghuang's wings and the rattle of Mat's lungs.

"You… you should probably leave. I'm not…not exactly the best company right now." The White Phoenix heaved.

"There's nowhere else for me to go." The Princess replied.

Fenghuang touched ground and moved her head to the window. Mat stroked her feathers, softly murmuring apologies to the animal. The bird pushed past the heated hand to touch foreheads with his, responding to his murmurs with low chirps of her own. He turned to Azula, his face calmer, but still unreadable.

"…Can you work a bellows?"

Azula arched an eyebrow, silently asking if he was seriously expecting a member of the royal family to perform menial labor. Mat either didn't notice or didn't care, and chose not to dignify the look with a reply. Eventually they settled into a routine of silent labor, Azula pumping air through the bellows and Mat loading coal into the hearth while Fenghuang looked in from the window. Again, it was Mat who broke the quiet.

"How's your dad?"

"Alive. Not well, but alive."

"Well…was it worth it?"

"Was what?"

"Seeing him lose."

Azula looked up from the bellows, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. She paused before answering.

"No. No, it wasn't. I didn't get the enjoyment from his weakness I thought I would." She resumed pumping.

"Why not?"

"I think partly because I'm trying to change, but mostly because he wasn't the only one that lost in that room."

Her partner only clenched his jaw and nodded.

"What happened to you, Mat? That stone you took out of your pocket…"

Mat paused mid-shovel, his shoulders tensing. "Not a stone. Crystal. It was a Psicrystal. Like I said, I found it in old Ba Sing Se, back when you captured the city."

Azula pressed through the memory of that fight—the manipulation of Zuko, striking down the Avatar, they were memories from old Azula; memories better left buried. "But what is it? What was it supposed to do?"

"The people I trained with, the Kalashtar, use them to store and augment their powers. Every crystal has its own amount of psionic power, in addition to whatever energy its psionic owner cares to put into it. Since I've been adding to mine for five years… It had a lot of power stored up." Mat looked at her now, and Azula could see an all too familiar hunger gnawing behind his eyes. "Do you know where it is? Can…can I have it back?"

She shook her head. "I don't. It got knocked away during…everything…and by the time someone thought to check the room, it had disappeared."

Mat fell quiet for a moment, digesting the information. "Good riddance," He bit at the words, "I never should have used it. I went against the rules." He resumed shoveling the coal. "Irrevocably changing a main character… The Old Man's gonna be pissed."

Azula kept her eyes on Mat, biting back her own questions as to what exactly that meant. She knew he dropped it purposefully—he'd rather talk about the secrets of his past than his troubles at present. "That's not why you're upset. You don't care about the punishment you might or might not receive, so don't try to distract me. Now what's the real problem?"

"You just have to be so good at reading people, huh?" Mat moved again to the firepot. "Fine. Psicrystal's all have an innate personality—they can be indifferent or zealous, aggressive or cowardly, heroic…or villainous. The rub is that you don't know the crystal's personality until you tap its power-cache. And the more power housed in the crystal, the more dominant the personality is—the more you get influenced by it." He grit his teeth as the forge's heat filled him to the brim. "It's like playing Russian roulette with a missile-launcher…never mind."

He pushed his hands further, clawing at the flickering flames and hissing out his pain through clenched teeth.

"I… I liked it. The power that crystal gave me, it filled me like nothing before ever has. It felt like I'd sucked the sun into my palms, but could deal with that amount of heat." Jerking back with a curse, Mat shook the sparks off his hands, blowing on the sizzling skin. "Unlike now."

As he moved to the window and released the stored energy, Fenghuang again took wing and soaked up the flames. "What's worse—I wanted more. I hungered for it, and when all that…power…was just knocked outta me, I lost it. To have another presence in your mind, with all that power behind it, suddenly tackled out of you—I felt like I was trapped inside my body, falling apart with nowhere to run."

His flames shrank, and Mat turned to Azula. He leaned his back against the wall and sunk, sitting beneath the window. "I felt every weakness my body held. Every ache, sore, and hurt was compacted and amplified tenfold. Without the crystal's power I felt abandoned, destitute… cold." He looked around the forge, his eyes settling back on his hands. "I guess I'm just trying to fill the hole it left behind." He presented his palms to Azula, showing her the blisters and burns his day of self-abuse had created. "It's not going too well."

Azula moved across from him, folding at the knees and sitting delicately on her legs. "I've had that hunger too—I was raised on it. The need for power, for independence… it's all I've wanted since I was a child." She looked past Mat for a moment, out the window to the prison tower in the distance. "He raised me to be like that, to be satisfied with nothing less than perfection."

"So the feared Azula's crimes can all be traced back to Ozai, huh?"

"…No. He might have guided me down that path, but everything I did, I did myself." She took his hands in hers, looking over the burns. Even after just expelling all that fire, she felt him unconsciously push a comforting amount of heat into her through their contact. She didn't reveal she noticed, but she didn't pull away either.

"I liked the power, the fear I felt from the people I abused and controlled. I convinced myself early on that it was okay, even proper because I was the Crown Princess of the Fire Nation—the strongest of the strong. It was my place, my duty even, to control those weaker than myself." She pulled her hands back and sighed. "Just as Father controlled me."

Mat rose and moved to the workbench, pulling two cups from the cupboard. "Ahh, the justification of tyranny. One of the comforting constants in human nature—I hear the same story from every despot I meet." He cringed as soon as the words left his mouth.

"We all have our demons, Mat. Even you. At least I'm trying to push past my hunger rather than fill it with a blacksmith's coal."

"I know you are." Mat pulled a lever and water flowed down from a pipe, filling the cups. "I don't know why I said that, I'm… I'm sorry." He walked back to the bellows and offered a cup. "And for what it's worth—the change? It's nice."

Azula rose and locked gazes with Mat as she took the cup, her eyes sharp. She drank deeply, then returned the cup and resumed pumping the wooden piston. Mat resumed his work as well, filling the hearth again with coal.

"Zuko doesn't seem to think so—he threw me out of the palace. You too, by the way."

"I'm not surprised. He was speaking about as much crazy as I was in that cell."

"They were all shocked when I told them about my firebending."

"As they should've been—it's not every day someone's bending just shuts down, I'd imagine."

Azula shot him a look. "Why didn't you tell them as soon as we got to the palace?"

Mat looked over his shoulder. They held each other's gaze again, longer this time. "I figured it wasn't my place to tell them, Princess." He turned back to the hearth.

Azula gave the smallest hint of a smile before pumping the bellows. "I suppose I should say thank-you, but it's because of your omission we got thrown out."

Mat grinned as he emptied the rest of a coal-bag into the hearth. "Me? If you had just told them when we got there, I'd be sleeping on a feather-mattress tonight instead of a rooftop. I just hope it doesn't rain."

"You can't be serious. I am _not_ sleeping outside."

"You got money for a room? Be thankful we just got kicked off the grounds, and not banished outright."

Azula was about to retort when the door opened. A young page, dressed in palace robes, poked his head around the corner before quickly bowing it. "Your Majesty, Master White Phoenix? The Fire Lord has requested your presence at the Royal Docks. There is a palanquin waiting for you outside. He expects you immediately."

Mat sighed and looked at Azula. "Well, I'm just gonna go ahead and stick my foot in my mouth, if that's alright with you."

Azula strode out the room. "Thank the spirits—I thought you never would."

…………

The wind threw sand in Kuzane's face as he walked along the beach. He blinked his eyes and bowed his head forward, determined to put one foot in front of the other. On his back was a small satchel, only enough for a change of clothes, a small gourd flute, and some hard bread. At his hip, a bag of sparkrocks and a recently sharpened dagger, 'borrowed' from his father's study earlier that morning. Kuzane felt a little bad about stealing it—Sifu Honna had told his parents he was simply taking Kuzane on a weekend field trip to earn extra credit for various missed assignments—but he knew whatever he was about to face was bound to be worse than his parent's wrath at finding out he had pilfered the small weapon.

Probably.

As he moved up the shoreline, Kuzane let his eyes wander up the rocky cliffs that rose between him and the ocean's waves. He quickened his pace—if he dawdled here, the tides would rise and he'd find himself climbing to get out of the water. Though drowning could soon be the least of his worries, because despite all of his performer's confidence, Kuzane couldn't help but feel like he was getting in over his head.

Five years ago, the common man on the street knew absolutely nothing about the Order of the White Lotus. Today, the only thing taught in school was that they had helped the Avatar and the Fire Lord end the war, apparently by retaking the entire city of Ba Sing Se with only a handful of powerful benders.

Of course, it made sense now why the subject was often skirted. If the pai sho tile held tight within Kuzane's palm was any indication, than Honna himself was a member of the Order. Since their barroom Manasaa Kai Kuzane's imagination had been running wild with conspiracies, and he couldn't help but wonder just who Honna was referring to when he said, "Meet us at the caves".

Kuzane shivered as the Cliffside threw the thin beach into shadow. As he grumbled and wished he'd packed a cloak, he noticed something odd in the sand. Tracks moved up the beach, unlike any he had ever seen, either in person or in schoolbooks. Warily he followed the tracks as they moved along the beach, noticing that soon one pair was joined by another, then another. The tracks led up to a sheer wall, worn smooth by the sand, wind, and surf.

At least, that's what it first seemed. Upon closer inspection, Kuzane noticed that the part of the wall the tracks mysteriously ended at was different than the rest of the Cliffside. Most of the cliffs solid Ignatius rock, while this section appeared to be sandstone. Silently thanking his teacher for that boring lecture on geology, Kuzane ran his hands over the stone, inspecting it for other peculiarities. Eventually, he found one. The wall had a small divot—casually tucked between a cleft in the sandstone—that was of unusual shape and size. In fact…

Kuzane inspected his tile, turning the Lotus piece over in his hands. Upon closer inspection, he realized that the playing piece was actually made out of sandstone, not clay like he had originally thought. Tentatively, he pressed the tile into the wall, grinning triumphantly as it clacked perfectly into place.

His grin evaporated, however, when the beach beneath him began to shake. Stumbling backwards and tripping over himself, Kuzane watched as the sandstone slowly crumbled and broke before his very eyes, revealing the mouth of what seemed to be a very deep, dark cave.

Before he had time to regain his footing, a man stepped out of the cave and squinted down at him. He was an elderly gentleman, with a bald head, Earth Kingdom clothes, and a thin, long mustache. "Hmm." He blinked down at the young boy. "You're early."

Kuzane shot up from the beach, brushing the sand off his pants. "I'm not early. Master Honna told me to come at sundown and—"

"He told you to come at sunset." The old man corrected. "Not sundown. There is a difference."

"Well if I had waited any longer, I'd have been swimming here." Kuzane huffed.

"Perhaps that, young one, was the point." The man stroked his mustache, looking Kuzane over. "No matter. What's done is done. Come, before we attract attention."

Kuzane kept his hand on the pommel of his dagger as he followed the strange man into the cave. They paused just inside the entrance, and Kuzane watched as his elderly companion put a hand to the wall and summoned a new door from the sand.

"You're an Earthbender?"

The man gave Kuzane a torch to light. "Technically what I just did was sandbending, but yes, I can earthbend as well."

Kuzane kept quiet as he bent the torch alight and allowed himself to be led by this strange companion. Questions about what an earthbender was doing in the Fire Nation, how he had arrived so quickly, and who exactly he was simmered and boiled in Kuzane's throat, threatening to erupt outwards in great gouts of interrogatives. He swallowed his wonderment however, as they entered into the cave's large cavern and whole new astonishment filled his vision.

The cavern was…well…cavernous. Kuzane guessed it to be at least as large as his schools courtyard and auditorium combined. Hundreds of braziers were affixed to stalactites that disappeared into the inky-blackness of the vaulted ceiling. All around him men and women of all ages and nations moved about, talking quietly, comparing charts and scrolls, or readying weapons.

"And now, young Kuzane, I take my leave. Someone has to watch the door."

"Wait, you know my name?" Kuzane turned around, facing the old earthbender. "I don't know yours—" his voice trailed off as he watched the mustached man fall backwards. Kuzane was too stunned to try and catch him, and his surprise only greatened when the man fell through the earth, rather than on it—disappearing into the ground and leaving behind a neat, man-shaped hole in the cave rock.

"Ahh, good old Fung. He always has a knack for avoiding tasking…situations." Kuzane spun around to the grizzled face of Honna, who met his eye with a stony glare. "You are early, Pupil."

"So I was told." Kuzane grinned, too curious and excited to let his teacher's severity ruin his mood. "So is this all for real? Are you really a member of the White Lotus?"

"I have been for many years now. Grand Master Iroh recruited me while I was still serving in the Navy. Once I had established certain contacts within the military, I retired to our Island in order to keep a lower profile."

"Not that it was really needed, Honna here stands out like black on coal." A young woman, several years older than Kuzane, smiled and waved as she approached from behind Honna. "Hello Kuzane, I was wondering when he was going to get his old, wrinkled claws into you too."

"Hi On Ji. Dragon's breath, is everyone in our school training to be a White Lotus?"

"Only ones who I deem exceptional, like On Ji here," Honna said, turning and biding the two to follow. "Or ones who seem expendable, such as yourself."

On Ji rolled her eyes at Honna's back and gave Kuzane a wink. "So how'd you get here so fast? Sifu Gloomy up there was sure that you'd be treading water before you managed to get inside."

"I followed some tracks." Kuzane replied, still trying to look at everything in the cave at once. "They were really strange—I'd never seen anything like them."

Honna stopped suddenly, his two protégés almost barreling into his broad back. "…Tracks?"

Kuzane's mood sobered immediately upon hearing his Sifu's tone. "Umm… yeah… Some tracks came out of the water and lead to the cave."

"Four clawed toes, set almost like a wolfbat's?"

"Well…I've never seen a wolfbat, so…"

"Did the print look like it could have come from this?" Honna swept to the side, revealing several creatures the likes of which Kuzane had never seen. Their bodies were both serpentine and lupine, with long snouts, scaly hides colored both dark and light green, and four massive, powerful legs.

Kuzane hid his amazement at the creatures as they lounged in their corner of the cave licking their forepaws. Instead, he made a great show of inspecting their feet. "Yup… those would do it."

From behind him, Kuzane heard On Ji mutter, "Aww… Monkeyfeathers."

Honna rounded on her. "I told you to brush away the eel hound tracks! They're not indigenous to the Fire Nation and obviously it only takes someone with all the intelligence of a trained hog monkey—"

"Hey!" Kuzane exclaimed, but Honna continued.

"—To follow them right to us!"

"Oh settle down, you old badger frog." A woman's voice, and the curves along with it, entered into the conversation. "The tide is washing away those tracks as we speak, there's nothing to worry about." The woman turned and fixed her sharp eyes onto the two students. "Well On Ji, it's been a while. Still keeping up your cover, I hope?"

"Spirits Zahra, it's hard." On Ji smiled as she embraced the tavern owner. "Hide keeps hinting that he wants to get married, and I don't know how much longer I can avoid answering his proposal."

"You'll make do, dear. If he pushes too hard, just take the first boat to my island, and we'll get you re-assigned." Zahra smiled as she looked Kuzane up and down. "Hmm, so you must be Honna's new project. Well my name is Zahra—I'm in charge of all intelligence operations and networking tasks for the White Lotus here in the Fire Nation."

Kuzane bowed formally, fixing the new arrival with his most boyish of smiles. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Ma'am. And might I say, you are much easier on the eyes than my Sifu. Could I perhaps be your project instead?"

Zahra laughed, while On Ji hid her smile behind her hand and Honna visibly paled. "My my my, you certainly picked a lively one, Honna."

"Without doubt." A man in a sword master's outfit, with a topknot and goatee, put a hand on Kuzane's shoulder. He looked to be just as old as Honna, but where his teacher's face was hewn from scraggly and pock-marked igneous stone, the newcomer's features seemed carved out of smooth and indomitable marble. "And it seems his first lesson should be on how to properly address a lady."

"Piandao, you know well enough that I am no lady," Zahra huffed, tossing back her dark hair. "I am a woman—and yes, there is a difference."

Piandao, wisely, choose not to pursue the subject. Instead, he returned Kuzane's eager bow, deciding introductions were an altogether safer topic. "Well met, Kuzane. I am Piandao, Swordmaster and leader of the White Lotus's Non-bending fighting forces. Now, let's have a quick inspection." He walked a circle around Kuzane, who made his best attempt to stand at attention, despite being unable keep a broad smile from his face.

"So what'd you bring us Honna? Looks like a firebender…not to strong, but he seems agile… though if that mouth of his is any indication, I'm guessing his fighting prowess isn't why you brought him along."

"If I had my way, he wouldn't be here at all," Honna grumbled. "But Storyteller requested it, so says the Grandmaster."

"So I say I, indeed."

Kuzane was developing whiplash from trying to keep up with all the new voices. Thankfully, the man who approached needed no introduction—his likeness had been commonplace on Royal prints, propaganda banners, and wanted posters for longer than Kuzane had been alive. He approached, with a raised hand, Stifling Kuzane's already burgeoning greeting.

"Now before you say anything, know that no amount of hero-worship will gain you favor within these walls. I have heard my exploits repeated back to me countless times by admirers, and more often than not they tell the stories wrong. Do not think that I am cold-hearted, young one, but know that flattery will get you nowhere."

Kuzane's toothy grin illuminated the entire cave, and before he had even spoke, Honna was sighing and rubbing his temples.

"Actually, Grand Master Iroh sir, I was gonna say you had tea-stains on your robes."

…………………

Azula and Mat reached the docks just as the sun was meeting the horizon. Awaiting them was a standard Fire Nation ship. Iron-clad and double hulled, it was neither old nor new, and carried with it no crest or insignia. Everyone, surprisingly, was standing on the dock next to the ship. Apparently someone—probably Mai, Katara, and Suki, Azula wagered—had convinced everyone to see the two off.

"So what's the deal?" Mat asked, "Are we kicked outta Fire Nation territory? Do I have to get the Princess a place to eat, sleep and abuse people somewhere nice, quiet, and out of the way?"

Azula looked to Mai, her tone almost pleading. "Please tell me you're banishing me someplace where I can legally kill him. _Please_."

"No one's getting banished." Aang chuckled, "You're going to Roku's Temple on Crescent Island."

"I'm being sent to an Island full of dusty old sages?" Azula asked incredulously, "Ashes to killing him—can I just kill myself then?"

"You're the key to finding Mother." Zuko tersely replied, "You're not allowed to die until she's sipping tea with me in the palace."

Azula narrowed her eyes. "Good to know I'm not allowed an opinion in where I'm going, what I'm doing, or whether or not I live or die."

Zuko growled as if to retort, but fell quiet as Mai rested a hand on his back. She fixed Azula with a look as well, quelling any response from the Princess with her trademark dry tone.

"Azula, I know you. And more than taking a chance at getting underneath your brother's skin, you would want to regain your bending."

Slowly, Azula nodded. "It's a close first, but your right."

"Well Grand Sage Shyu is the best person to help you. He knows more about firebending theory than anyone else alive."

"And the Island is a full-fledged school for the order now." Katara added, "There will be sages-in-training younger than you living there."

"Plus a volcano will be easier to pull heat from than a Smith's forge." Suki said, giving Mat a significant look. "And a lot less dangerous for the people living around it."

"Basically Platypus, we're killing two birds here with one stone." Toph turned to Mat as an afterthought. "No offense, Fire-Butt."

"None taken, Bandit." Mat craned his neck to take in the entirety of the docked vessel. "But how did we get saddled with this lovely, luxurious cruise ship?"

Sokka grinned. "My idea. Everyone and their pet would be able to track you if we sent you two out on the royal skiff or let you blast yourself and Azula there. Instead you'll be slipping out in this unassuming cargo ship—going out with the fishing fleet for cover."

Azula nodded, approving the plan. "So when do we leave?"

"At first light with the fishing boats." Zuko answered. "The sooner you get your bending back, the sooner you can actually be useful to us."

Aang circumvented another argument from starting. "We'll come by to check on you in a couple of weeks. By then we'll have finished business here and can start on our own missions. The spirits have tasks for all of us."

"Some more boring than others…" Mai muttered darkly.

"So we leave in the morning." Mat rubbed his hands together, glad to finally have a plan in motion. "Where are we sleeping tonight then?"

"You two get to honeymoon on the rust-bucket." Toph grinned. "Sparky still doesn't want the animals in the house."

Mat laughed and started walking onboard—Toph, Sokka, and Suki with him. "Animals, huh? Tell you what Bandit—I'll show you just how much of an 'animal' I can be if you come check the mattress in my cabin with me…" An iron handrail Mat reached for cracked and broke beneath his grip, sending him head over heel and into the cold ocean water below.

Toph waited until he had surfaced, sputtering salt water, before answering. "Hands to yourself, Bird-Boy. Behave or you won't even live to see your cabin."

Katara laughed from the dock, turning to Azula. "Your things have already been brought on board. We were going to eat dinner here on the ship, if that's alright with you."

Azula nodded, turning from the antics at the other end of the dock. "At the very least, you'll distract him from talking to me."

Aang smiled and took Katara's hand, walking with her to the boat where the two of them bent Mat out of the water. Azula wanted to follow, but Mai's call stopped her. She turned back to the remaining couple, Zuko starring a hole into the dock and Mai still with a hand on his back.

"Azula, your brother has something he'd like to say to you."

Zuko rolled his eyes. Stony faced, he looked up at her. "I suppose I… Overreacted in the jail cell." He made as if to leave, but Mai's hand on his back never strayed. He paused, swallowing audibly, before continuing. "And again in the sitting room. I shouldn't have expected those…things from you."

Azula had a biting remark set to fire from her lips before she had even stopped to think. But she caught a look from Mai, and thought about her promise to make an effort to change. Sighing, she met her brother's gaze. "I suppose I should have told you about my bending before we went to visit Father. I suppose I… shouldn't have tried to hide it."

The two siblings of fire stood facing each other. This was the closest they had ever come to apologizing for their actions against one another, both dancing around the words their father had never allowed in the house—'I'm sorry.' Nodding in acceptance, Zuko waited until Mai had pulled her hand from his back before moving quickly to join the others.

Azula let out a breath. "I really thought he was going to banish me. He would have been justified, the way I acted."

Mai took Azula's arm in hers and started towards the boat. "We went for a walk, and I calmed him down. Never underestimate the power of persuasion."

"But how on earth." Azula looked sideways at her friend. "Did you get him to actually apologize?"

Mai gave one of her rare, small smiles, and with a slight flourish of her wrist a stiletto appeared between her fingers. "Like I said. Persuasion."

_Here ends episode 6_

_Βαττλες το κομε, βλοοδ το σπιλλ..._

…\/…\/…\/…


	18. Of Discussions and Dreams

The Avatar Saga—Azula's redemption  
_**Chapter 17: Of Discussions and Dreams**_  
By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

"So you're saying I'm responsible for maintaining every fiction ever made or thought of, and if I don't not only will everyone waste away into zombies, but all you and your divine buddies will die as well?"

"_I never said the labor was an easy one, Kouros." _

"Well you know what? No. Get me out of here—I won't do it. You can't make me, I'm not your servant."

"_You're wrong. Your mind, body and soul belong to me now, just as Max who was Maximos, and Maccan who was Maponos before him. And that is the end of things." _

_Here begins episode 7_

_ιν ω__ἱ__χ α βου βεκομες α μαν..._

…\/…\/…\/…

Kuzane sighed and skipped a lump of coal overboard, watching it bounce five times before sinking into the blue-black darkness of the ocean below him. He was on one of five White Lotus ships—elegant, steam-powered vessels with rounded bows and two large paddle-wheels on either side. Kuzane thought back to before he first saw the ships, in all their polished and ornate glory.

He'd been feeling absolutely useless while watching everyone work in the cave. Everywhere around him men and women were sharpening weapons, fitting armor, and going over intelligence; even On Ji was helping Zahra sort through a pile of scrolls and record books. Eventually he meandered over to where Iroh, Piandao, and Fung were playing Pai Sho, next to the animals Kuzane supposed they arrived on.

"Those are some impressive… what are called they again?"

"Eel Hounds." Fung drew his finger along the side of the stone table, bending a tile into existence and setting it in place with a clack. "The only way to get from the Earth Kingdom to the Fire Nation in under a week without all the attention of an Airship."

"Yeah, those." Kuzane nodded his head. "I got to say they're pretty cool… you should place a rose tile there."

"I was just about to," Iroh replied amiably, "so tell us about yourself, young Kuzane."

"Well, I'm pretty much Sifu Honna's top student. The apple of his eye, some might say."

"I'd pay ten gold pieces if you could find someone dumb enough to say that. You're lazy, tardy, and almost always full of excuses. " Honna sat next to the table, opposite his student. "The final preparations are almost finished, Grandmaster. We should be able to leave within the hour."

"Excellent. And it's always good to see a Master and Pupil on such good terms by the way," Iroh chuckled.

"Well my other teachers' thing I'm great." Kuzane grabbed for his gourd flute and presented it to Iroh. "I play hulusi in Music class and my music teacher says I'm a prodigy."

"He thinks you have a minor talent," Honna corrected, "under-developed and over-exaggerated."

Kuzane shot Honna a glare. "Sifu Wass says I'm a great firebender, especially with my dagger." He turned to Piandao, offering his blade for inspection.

"You only started weapons training last week," Came Honna's amendment, "And Wass merely expressed his surprise you were actually on time that day."

"...Can't you let me have anything?"

Sighing again, Kuzane selected another lump of coal and skipped it. Only three hops this time. The night had gone from bad to worse—he had butted heads with his Sifu, made a fool out of himself in front of the Lotus Masters, and on top all that he still didn't know if Storyteller was alright.

Another lump of coal, this time there wasn't even one skip—just a dissatisfying, angry sploosh.

"Bloody Ashes," Kuzane cursed. He hung his arms over the ship, resting his chin on the guardrail and watching as the waxing moon reach its zenith. It would be full by tomorrow night, not that the extra light improved his mood. He turned back to the bucket of coal, looking for either a smooth piece to skip, or a big one to splash—he couldn't decide. "Bleeding, scabby ashes."

"Personally, I've always liked 'searing, Koh-faced ashes' myself." A sagely, scratchy voice caused Kuzane to look up in astonishment.

"Master Iroh, I didn't know you were watching."

Iroh smiled. "You're doing it wrong."

"Um… the cursing, Sir?"

His smile widened, and the old man chuckled. "No, it seems you're pretty good of that. I meant the stone skipping."

Without so much as a casual inspection, Iroh chose a random lump of coal from the bucket and strode to the railing. "Over a long and successful career in rock hopping, I've found that the best stone skippers come from the poles." Almost quicker than Kuzane could follow, Iroh assumed a waterbending stance, barely taking the time to rear back like an oncoming tidal wave before launching his arm with amazing speed and precision. The stone rocketed away from the ship, skipping across the water until Kuzane lost its shape to the darkness of the night.

Kuzane hefted his lump, attempting to copy Iroh's movements. The sound of his stone splashing once against the water was dreadfully apparent. Kuzane, however, looked undeterred as he selected another piece of coal. "I've never tried to move like a Waterbender before. It feels…weird."

"Ah yes, it was 'weird' to me too at first." Iroh helped the young firebender adjust his posture.

"So the famed White Lotus are not only pai sho players, but professional rock hoppers too?"

"We are whatever the world needs us to be," Iroh answered, "throughout our long history we have been philosophers, warriors, guardians, and assassins. But through it all, only one thing has changed."

Kuzane launched his lump of coal, watching with a growing smile as the stone skipped further across the ocean than it had before. "What's changed?" He asked.

Iroh stroked his beard, and his tone reminded Kuzane of Sifu Honna during history class. From the folds of his sleeve, he produced two pai sho tiles. "This tile, used by White Lotus members to signify themselves to others of the Order, is an antique." Iroh gave Kuzane the white lotus tile to look at. "And this tile," he continued, "is from a new set I bought just last season, for a table in my Tea House."

Kuzane studied the two wooden disks. He noticed that the older lotus design had six petals, where the newer one had only five. Knowing the Grandmaster was attempting to teach him something important, he unconsciously scrunched his face up trying to reason it out.

Slowly, the realization dawned on him. "Iroh, just how old is this first tile?"

Iroh's toothy smile was easily visible in the moonlight. "At least one hundred years old, young Kuzane."

Like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place, Kuzane snapped his fingers. "Each petal is a part of the Order. Four for each element, one for non-benders, then the last one for the Grandmaster."

Iroh smiled wider, bidding him to continue.

"But when the airbenders all died—"

"Were killed," Iroh corrected firmly, "never forget what sins our forefathers committed, Kuzane. If we do, we are doomed to repeat the same mistakes."

Kuzane nodded. "So when they were all killed, there was no one left to represent that part of the Order, and the lotus was changed from six petals to five."

Iroh smiled softly as he turned to look out past the railing, inspecting the four ships that steamed alongside his own. "When I was first given the honor of becoming Grandmaster, I had hoped to see the sixth petal restored in my lifetime. There was a story my Grandfather used to tell me…"

Kuzane wanted to hear more, but the Iroh had lost himself in his own thoughts, and the boy didn't want to pry open old wounds. Instead, he asked a different question that had been burning in the back of his throat all night.

"Iroh, how did you and the other Masters get to the Fire Nation so quickly? Even if those giant eel hounds are as fast as Master Fung says, it should have taken you at least a week to get a message from Sifu Honna about Storyteller."

"That would be true," Iroh acquiesced, "If the Order still used messenger hawks to communicate."

"But if you don't use hawks, what do you use?"

Iroh pointed to the horizon, and Kuzane followed his outstretched finger. "My young friend, you're about to find out. Do you remember the story of the Avatar and the Library?"

Kuzane answered almost automatically as he peered at the small dot on the horizon, which seemed to pulse and twinkle like a star. "Sure. Avatar Aang and the Senken went to Wan Shi Tong's library in the desert to find information on the Fire Nation. But they made the spirit angry, and he sank the library beneath the shifting sands."

"And do you remember," Iroh casually asked, "Any other spirits in that story?"

Kuzane shook his head. The dot was getting bigger, and was now more of a dusty brown color. It almost seemed to lope across the water, and slowly a discernable figure began to take shape.

Iroh continued. "There was one other kind of spirit in that story. They had been serving Wan Shi Tong for eons, gathering knowledge for his library while he minded all the books and scrolls they brought for him."

A small gasp escaped Kuzane's lips as a four legged, bushy tailed spirit leapt from the water it had been running over and onto the deck of the ship. The creature padded silently to Iroh, then sat on its haunches and nudged the scroll it had brought with its nose forward, rolling the parchment to Iroh's feet.

"Kuzane." Iroh knelt down to give the spirit an affectionate pat on the head. "This is a Knowledge Seeker."

"Ho…how…? Wh-what…?"

Iroh chuckled as the spirit fox pushed his hand beneath its chin, hoping for a scratch. "When Wan Shi Tong submerged the library, he did more than bury it beneath the desert sands. He took it back with him to the Spirit World. That left all the Knowledge Seekers outside the library—of which there were quite a few—stranded here in the real world. After the war I spent some time traveling the world, finding and persuading them to help me with my Order in return for a warm home and human companionship. I've had some experience with spirits in the past…but that's another tale entirely."

Iroh reached once again into his sleeve, and produced a small scroll that the Knowledge seeker dutifully accepted between its teeth. The spirit stretched its back, as if bowing to Iroh, before turning a critical eye to Kuzane and very definitely nodding once. Then it was gone again, loping across the swells and crests of the open ocean.

"As spirits they never tire, and can travel from place to place in more ways than one." Iroh turned to Kuzane and winked. "They've proven invaluable in the Order's communications network. Zhara's been having a field day ever since I sent one to work with her personally."

Kuzane smiled, and offered the old man a hand up. Iroh pocketed the scroll the Knowledge seeker had brought him, then took the hand and rose to his feet. Together, the two went back to the coal bucket and resumed their skipping lessons.

After a few more attempts at copying a waterbender's stance and style, Kuzane spoke again. "I'm sorry I lied so much in the caves."

"I've found that even the most outrageous of lies holds within them a glimmering kernel of truth."

"I guess I just wanted to impress you all…I'm still not sure why I'm here."

Iroh moved again to help Kuzane with his stance. He moved the boy deliberately, as if molding clay, while he spoke.

"In the simplest of ways, you are here because Storyteller wished you to be. Our history with him is long, and suffice it to say that the Order felt indebted. We owed him at least this one small favor."

Once he had Kuzane in the right position, Iroh assumed the stance himself, and bade the boy to copy his movements. "But deeper than that, you are here because you have the same quality my Nephew did when he was around your age."

Kuzane smiled as he mimicked the man's movements. "Courage? Determination? A big gross scar?"

Iroh chuckled. "Not quite. He had potential. Same as you it was untapped and rough, but through careful guidance and tenacity Zuko was honed into the man who rules our nation today. I hope only that we can do the same with you, Kuzane." His voice had ended with a much more serious tone than it had started with, and Kuzane nodded resolutely back.

"Now…throw!"

As one, the two firebenders ceased their swaying and whipped their hands forward, releasing their stones like a Waterbender releases a bullet of ice. The lumps of coal danced over the water until Kuzane lost count of the skips, and they continued to race each other into the inky blackness that was the night.

The young boy whooped and threw a fist into the air. He turned to Iroh with a wide grin, who looked back with a smile to match.

"Now my little liar, you can move like a Waterbender."

Kuzane smiled and bowed formally; glad he could feel Iroh doing likewise. "All thanks to you, Sifu tea-stain." This of course brought another round of laughter between the two—only dying down after the noise of a dry throat clearing itself was added to their happy chorus.

"Grandmaster, we are reaching the Island. The others are ready for the final briefing." Honna intoned in that perpetually grizzled voice of his. Glancing about the deck and finding the mostly empty bucket of coal, He raised an eyebrow at Kuzane.

"Did we forget we were supposed to be taking coal to the boiler room, Pupil Kuzane?"

Kuzane had a whopper of a tale about defending a hapless dolphin trout from spinner-sharks already forming in his brain, but to his great surprise Iroh beat him to it.

"Oh Honna, you should have seen it. I'm walking to my cabin to get some jasmine tea leaves when I hear a tremendous roar. I rush over here to find an enormous black dragon—the likes of which haven't been seen in years—and Kuzane." He smiled warmly at the boy. "Being the studious young man that he is, Kuzane knew that only back coal could harm such a beast. So valiantly he set to work pelting the beast with lump after lump after—"

Honna raised his hands in defeat. "Whenever you come up for air Grandmaster, we're ready for you in the war room."

Winking again at Kuzane, Iroh followed Honna. The two disappeared inside, and Kuzane laughed softly to himself as he picked up the almost empty bucket and began to trudge to the boiler room. He was stopped however, when Honna stuck his head out of the cabin and called to him.

"Well Pupil, are you coming or what?"

……………

Azula was mystified. She had no clue as to her location, purpose or destination. All she could be sure of was the frigid wind whipping back her hair, the overwhelming pain that originated from her stomach and arced through her every nerve—tremors of lightning sharp anguish that threatened to overwhelm her—and the different shades of white and red everywhere she looked. Below her the pure clean white of snow was melted and marred with the furious red of scorching flame that paired with every jolt her body felt. Ahead of her the dull, dirty white of a pre-dawn overcast was pierced by the multi-shaded reds of the rising sun. Against her the torn, shredded white of a man's haori was stained with the scarlet red of their mixed and mingled blood.

"_I'm going to save you. You're going to live."_

She felt herself spirited over the frozen terrain—long, weightless bounds and leaps followed by short, bone-jarring impacts sent her speeding over mountains of snow and ice and rock. The frigid air cut into her cuts and wounds while her breath coalesced and solidified, leaving a trail of steam that dissipated into the morning sky. His breath steamed too, but not the great gouts of condensated exhalation that she had grown accustomed to seeing. No, his blood flowed almost as fast and free as hers, and every bound he made, every word he shouted against the whipping wind seemed a bit shorter, a decibel softer, than the ones preceding them.

"_You're going to make it, I promise. I'm going to save you."_

She knew that he was giving his life for hers, just as she had tried to do for him hours before. The difference was she didn't deserve it. She had broken the deepest of bonds, severed the strongest of ties, and abandoned the most meaningful type of relationship two people could ever share. But still he bounded, still he shouted, and still he grew weaker.

"_I won't let you die. You're going to live."_

He repeated the same words over and over, like a mantra. If it was any other time, she would have made fun of him for it. If it was any other time, he wouldn't have that manic desperation in his eyes. But it wasn't those other times—those warm, late summer days that first exposed her to the long-forgotten joys of humanity. Instead it was cold. And early. White. And red.

"_I'm going to save you. You're going to make it."_

Then she was falling. At first she couldn't tell, because his arm was still around her waist. But as Azula looked around at the swirling reds and whites she realized there wasn't going to be another bounding explosion into the sky. There was only going to be the cold hard impact that would silence them forever.

But she felt his weight shift, and suddenly they were no longer falling side-by-side. Now he would take the brunt of the impact—fall so she could rise, plunge so she could soar. Die so she could live.

And she yelled out; first as a call, but slowly it grew into an all encompassing scream, one that embodied all she had learned, accepted and felt over the last two seasons. And the screaming didn't stop when her eyes snapped open to take in the cold steel walls all around her. It kept on, loud and terrified, even as she kicked off the covers Mai had brought so the boat ride wouldn't be too uncomfortable. To Azula's horrified mind, she wasn't in a boat en route to Roku's Island—she was still frigid, still chilled, still locked and chained like an animal in the deepest darkest pit of the Boiling Rock.

The screaming didn't cease, even as a frantic pounding beat on her thick steel door—beyond it the calls of Fenghuang and the shouts of Mat echoing throughout the ship. Azula kept screaming, even as her door was blasted down, even as she was grabbed by what seemed to be foreign hands, and even as she was taken, kicking and screaming and scratching, into the open ocean air.

…\/…\/…\/…


	19. Of Rescues and Reputations

The Avatar Saga—Azula's redemption  
_**Chapter 18: Of Rescues and Reputations**_  
By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

"_Come Kouros. Delphi at Parnassus awaits."_

I'm not going. I'm just some kid who reads way too much, some thirteen-year-old who doesn't belong out after dark. You're asking me to take over the fate of the world. Well I'm not doing it. I'm just some kid."

"_Let me be clear then: I am not asking. I have wasted enough time teaching you things every Musagetes is trained to know before they are sent to assume the title. Now come along, lest I find myself angry."_

"…I'm just some kid…"

"_Katadesmoi!__You are a Musagetes now and forever, and it's time you start acting like one. Now come along!"_

…\/…\/…\/…

Kuzane was so giddy he thought he might scream. On Ji, as if sensing this, clamped a hand over his mouth while furiously signaling for quiet with the other.

"If we get caught we could get killed," She hissed, "or worse. I could be demoted."

Grinning into her palm, Kuzane nodded his head. With a sigh she released him, only sparing one more severe look before taking off again—slinking through the underbrush with all the silence and grace of a pygmy puma. Kuzane did his best to follow her, though his movements were far less stealthy—his body was used to city streets and urban shadows, not this dense forest. His pouch of spark rocks clacked with every step, and he snapped far too many dry twigs with his feet than he felt was safe to do so. Several times already he and On Ji had stopped and waited in the dark, pressing themselves into whatever shadows they could find and watching silently as men and women ran past.

The two were supposed to be waiting back on the ship with Zahra and the other non-combatants. The plan was for the five White Lotus ships to attack from five different points around the island. Each ship had five units of fighters, and it was Iroh's strategy that they plunge deep into the island as fast as possible, before each unit split into five smaller squads of five fighters each. "Blossoms within blossoms within blossoms." The former General had called it.

It wasn't until after the resistance had been quelled, (of which there was expected to be little, Kuzane learned. The scroll the Knowledge Seeker had brought Iroh was actually a current roster from the enemy camp, stolen from right under their noses by the wispy spirit. ) that the non-combatants were to move in and collect intelligence, heal any wounded, and help secure deserters for their transport and eventual trial.

Of course, Kuzane and On Ji hadn't waited for the 'all clear' signal to be thrown before they snuck off their docked vessel and struck out on their own. For once however, something this crazy wasn't Kuzane's idea.

"There's still fighting going on." He whispered to his partner as they waited for a group of enemy firebenders to rush past them, attracted as they were by the sounds of a skirmish the two initiates had just avoided not more than a few minutes before. "Why in the world are we out here?"

"Because if they find out we're here to rescue Storyteller, they might try and kill him or get away with him on a ship," On Ji's hazel eyes glinted in the moonlight. Kuzane didn't know her that well while they were in school together, but he was reasonably sure she hadn't been so brazen back then. "Besides, if we rescue Storyteller ourselves, I might get promoted and transferred away from Hide."

After the danger past the two were soon moving again. Jumping from shadow to shadow they avoided clearings, dry twigs, and fireballs. With the exception of Fung the battle was an entirely Fire Nation affair, which meant that the night sky was bright with gouts of flame and plumes of smoke. Thankfully though, the Knowledge Seeker's information seemed to be holding true, and Kuzane could tell from the sounds of battle that the White Lotus was slowly but surely pushing the deserters back.

Still, that didn't make their search any safer. Throughout the night they had both saved each other from some seriously close calls. After almost running headlong into an ongoing fight for the third time, On Ji let out a hiss of frustration and put her back against the dark side of a tree, pushing her fists into her eyes.

"We're getting nowhere just wondering around like this. We need to find out where they're keeping him."

Kuzane adopted a thoughtful look. "Well, in the stories the bad guys always keep the prisoner in the highest room of the tallest tower—you know, somewhere that's hard to get to, and even harder to get away from."

"This isn't some story, Kuzane," On Ji sighed, "and even if it was, this island is all tents and wooden barricades—there aren't any towers for miles."

"You right. No towers." Kuzane smiled and gestured through a clearing in the trees. "But there is that."

On Ji followed the direction of his gaze and saw a natural hilltop rise sharply and steeply in the distance. She could tell that the hilltop's peak was almost completely ringed with trees, but their position afforded them a rare glimpse at what lay within the dense grove. They could just barely make out the glimmer of a campfire, and what looked like a tent behind it.

"All right, I guess that's where we're off to then." On Ji dusted herself off. "Let's go save your princess, noble warrior."

Kuzane huffed. "I didn't say it was _that_ kind of story."

On Ji giggled, playfully ruffling the boy's hair. "Whatever. Let's just get moving—we'll cut straight through the island, nice and fast."

Without warning, the tree the two of them had been hiding behind burst into flame. The clamor of steel against steel, of fire against flesh, spilled into the clearing no more than a few bu away from them. Immediately, the two dropped to the ground, their faces inches from each other's.

"Why don't we go the long way?" Kuzane asked.

On Ji nodded, her eyes wide and the tip of her ponytail smoldering.

…………………

As the two figures scaled the steep hill, the sounds of battle slowly faded into a sort of dangerous lullaby that floated up the incline and reached them with a surreal, macabre tone. To Kuzane the shouts, curses, and screams still made the hair on the back of his neck stand straight, but at least it was good to know the Order was still fighting. Almost unconsciously as they climbed he'd pause and look down at the chaos below—at the glints of blades in the moonlight or the flashes of firebending that briefly blinded him. He'd had to hurry several times in order to catch back up with On Ji, who seemed to be at least a little more used to the clamor and chaos of live battle.

Once they neared the summit, the two made their way along the lip of the tree line, waiting until they were on the opposite side of the break before making their way through the small forest to the clearing. They paused at the edge of their cover, and Kuzane let out a soft gasp at what his eyes found before him. Just like he suspected, in the clearing stood a tent. It had a thick, solid pole jutting out of the top of it, and Kuzane wagered that if Storyteller was anywhere, it was bound up against that pole. But what attracted his and on Ji's attention more than the mass of wicker, wood and canvas was the solitary figure guarding it. The figure that was impossibly large, metal limbed, and tattooed square in the middle of his forehead.

"Combustion Man," On Ji breathed, "the Order has been after him forever."

"Do they have any information we can use?"

Silently, On Ji shook her head. "That's what makes him so dangerous. He's never to be approached alone, no one-on-one fights under any circumstances."

Kuzane attempted to swallow against a very dry throat. "Good thing there's two of us."

He looked over, and thought he could almost see the wheels in his partner's head turning. "From up here, he could take out scores of advancing soldiers without even having to move. And the trees make it impossible for any big group to attack him from behind."

"Well, if the Rhino's know how to do one thing well, it's how to guard their butts."

"Listen," On Ji's voice cut through Kuzane's pale attempt at humor. "We're seriously outmatched here. We should sneak back down and—"

"I'm not leaving." Kuzane's whisper was flat. "Storyteller is right in there; we can't go back now after coming so close. Besides, look at him." Kuzane jerked his head towards Combustion Man, who was using a large cast-iron pan and his metal hand to cook a thick slab of meat on the fire they had seen earlier. "He's getting ready to stuff his fat explody face. We can just sneak in the back, grab Storyteller, and be off into the trees before he even gets to the second course."

On Ji fell silent for a moment, then nodded. "Just as long as we don't end up as the second course, Kuzane."

With an agonizingly slow pace, the two crawled from the relative safety of the tree line on their hands and knees. They kept the tent between them and the Combustion man, and made their way cun by cun, bu by bu. Silently, Kuzane cursed the position of the setting moon. The shadow was on the other side of the tent—leaving them completely exposed in the orb's silvery light.

As they reached the tent's canvas, Kuzane cursed again. There were no doors on this side—they'd have to cut a whole. Wincing as he did so, Kuzane pushed past his bag of spark rocks to an item farther back on his belt. Quietly he loosened and drew his father's dagger from its sheath. He was about to ease it into the canvas when On Ji's hand stopped him. He almost jumped right out of his skin—he'd forgotten she was even there. Only the Combustion Man's chomps and slurps from the other side of the tent kept him quiet.

"_Man… for a guy who doesn't talk, he sure is a loud eater." _Kuzane thought.

Silently, On Ji drew characters into the dirt. She had neither the time nor the inclination to write an entire message; instead she focused on just a few choice characters.

"_Tent +Knife= Loud." _

Kuzane looked at her with an eyebrow raised. She rolled hers, then drew four more characters in the dirt.

"_Tent+ Knife+ Fire= Quiet."_

Realization sparked in Kuzane's face. Just cutting into the dry canvas would surely make loud, tearing noises. But if he bent just the right amount of fire around the blade, then proceeded to make a cut… well, it'd be a lot like a hot knife through canvas, actually.

Once he realized what her idea was, Kuzane made to pass the dagger over to On Ji. However, she pushed it back into his hands, shaking her head while pointing at the character for fire. Great, she couldn't firebend—it was all up to him.

As quietly as he could, Kuzane swallowed. Squaring he shoulders, he curled his shaky hand around the dagger's hilt, trying desperately to remember the precious few lessons on bending with a weapon Sifu Wass had imparted onto him.

"_You must treat the blade as an extension of yourself. Do not bend through your hands, but through the tip of your weapon. Use it as the source for your inner fire—let its steel harden your will, and its edge guide your flame."_

If he could have done so without running the risk of being blasted to smithereens, Kuzane would have chortled at the sheer ridiculousness of Wass's lecture. It was all mumbo-jumbo—no useful information at all.

Well, maybe the first part was useful. Emptying his lungs, Kuzane tried to imagine that his hand didn't end at… well, his hand. He willed his brain to accept the fact that the dagger he now held onto so tightly his knuckles cracked was in fact a part of his body. Slowly, he pushed his chi into his hand, collecting it and then pushing it further, out and around his dagger's blade.

Then, slowly, Kuzane breathed in. he collected oxygen from the air that filled his lungs, and with one last quick prayer to the spirits, he sent the oxygen to mix with his collected chi.

The chi caught, and flames sprang to life around the tip of his blade. Quickly muttering a curse, Kuzane backed off on the chi—changing the flames to a tight, dull red glow that snaked around his dagger like a miniature dragon. For a second he knelt there dumbly, looking at what he'd just done. He glanced up at On Ji, who only gave a worried smile before resuming her tentative lookout for signs of change in their large, volatile friend.

Grinning ear from ear, Kuzane wiped the sweat from his brow before slowly but surely sinking the dagger into the taut canvas of the tent. Smooth as a tailor's tools shearing silk, the material gave way under the blade's fire-woven edge. Soon he had a sizable flap made, and On Ji quickly pushed past him into the darkness of the tent's interior, leaving Kuzane to sheath his weapon and mutter something about 'impatient girls' before following quietly after her.

Once inside the tent, the two had to wait until their eyes adjusted to the lower level of light. Thankfully, Combustion Man had closed the front door of the tent, though his gnashing teeth and creaking metal digits were so close that Kuzane and On Ji were worried he'd hear them make the smallest of movements. Eventually their eyes adjusted, and this time it Was Kuzane who stifled On Ji's startled cry with his hand.

Simply put, Storyteller was a wreck. He was bound, gagged, and look like he hadn't been fed since his kidnapping. And though six or so days without food wasn't lethal by any means, the nasty coalition of cuts, bruises, dirt, and blood worked together in earnest to him look much worse off than he hopefully was. At the moment the man seemed unconscious, though it was hard to tell if his eyes were closed or just swollen shut. Kuzane bit his bottom lip and clenched his fists until they shook, knowing that in no small way that this was his entire fault.

On Ji put an arm around his shoulder, bringing his ear close to lips before whispering softly, "Hey, it's going to be alright. He's breathing is steady. He's going to be okay." She waited until Kuzane nodded before releasing him. "Now. I'll get rid of those chains, and you wake him up."

Gingerly, Kuzane knelt down until he was level with Storyteller's slumped form. Focusing, he tried to warm his hands before slowly massaging the prisoner's temples in what he hoped was a soothing way. Slowly, Storyteller stirred from the blissfully pain-free unconsciousness he had achieved, and upon waking, started to moan. Blearily his eyes fluttered open, and seeing he wasn't alone, Storyteller yelled against his heavy gag in alarm. Kuzane hurriedly tried to quiet him, and for a moment no one dared to breathe as Combustion Man's eating paused outside the tent.

Projected by the campfire's light, the Combustion Man's silhouette completely filled the tent's canvas as he rose from his meal. On Ji's eyes went wide, and she tugged faster on Storyteller's bonds while Kuzane drew his dagger, not bothering to try and quiet his trembling hand.

Kuzane could barely believe their luck as the menacing shadow shrank, signaling that the half-metal monster was moving away from the tent rather than toward it. He looked back at On Ji, who sighed and gave him a relieved smile. That's when Kuzane noticed something else. Turning his head this way and that, he tried to find the sounds of battle—but that sickly lullaby that had been playing since their arrival on the island had ceased. In its place was a resounding cheer of victory, and Kuzane knew that the White Lotus must have finished off the remaining rebels. A wide smile split his face—soon there'd be backup, and everything would be just fine. A happy ending, once and for all.

Storyteller however, struggled wildly against his chains. Curious, Kuzane removed the gag.

"The…the captains…" Storyteller's ragged voice gave indication that he was unused to talking, but he struggled on anyway, "They told him to wait for… to not act unless the island fell…"

Kuzane's blood ran cold, and he caught eyes with On Ji, who could only stare open mouthed as her face paled an ashen white. From outside the tent, ominous breathing reached their ears.

"FFFffffff….SSSSsssshhhhhhh…"

***BOOM***

Kuzane felt the explosion deep inside his chest, and the blast seemed to rock the entire island. Before he even knew what was happening Combustion Man was breathing again, sending another volley of invisible, freakish death upon anyone below the hilltop he could lay his eyes upon—which is to say, almost everyone on the island.

On Ji struggled desperately with Storyteller's bonds. "The chains are padlocked; I can't get them off without the key."

"Give me the pin from your hair clasp." Kuzane circled around to face Storyteller's rag-covered back. Taking the pin and his dagger, Kuzane methodically began working the padlock's tumblers. "My Father decided last fall to teach me a lesson for breaking curfew." His hand slipped as another explosion rocked the hilltop. Doggedly he tried again.

"He decided that if I wanted to stay out longer than I was supposed to, than I'd have to stay out all night instead. He had all the windows barred and put these big padlocks on all the doors." Kuzane knew he was babbling, but he couldn't help it. If he filled his ears with meaningless chatter, than he wouldn't hear the shouts and screams as White Lotus soldiers ran for cover. "He never thought I'd learn how to pick locks—I guess now I should be thankful for all those cold nights spent fumbling in the dark."

"Kuzane, I've got to go distract him."

Kuzane's fingers slipped again, and he cursed. Without looking up, he tried a third time. "You can't leave, I'm gonna need your help moving Storyteller."

"Kuzane, listen to what's going on out there." And in the quiet of the tent Kuzane heard the explosions, shrieks, and rallying calls coming from outside. The Order was preparing to rush up the hilltop. "If I don't distract Combustion Man, he's just going to blow everyone who tries to run up this hill all the way to the Spirit World."

On Ji laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be fine. I'll stick to the trees and—"

Kuzane shrugged her hand off his shoulder forcefully. "No. We should wait here for Iroh and Piandao and Honna and Fung and all the others. They'll come rescue us."

"But at what cost? Just listen to them out there Kuzane—"

"I don't want to listen. I'm just some kid who doesn't belong out after dark, and you're asking me to listen to all that out there and then to let you just go out there and If you go out there you'll die."

For the third time, Kuzane's hands slipped on the padlock. This time, it was because tears were in his eyes. "I'm just some kid," He repeated, his voice cracking as he did so, "…just some kid."

Without feeling it happen, he found himself shoulder-deep in a fierce hug. "Now that," On Ji chided, "is the worst lie I've heard from you yet. Listen…. I know what I'm doing, and I promise he won't even see me. I'm just going to hold his attention long enough for you to get away with Storyteller and for the others to make it up the hill, okay?"

Kuzane nodded into her shoulder.

"Good. Now are you sure you can pick this lock?"

Kuzane pushed away from the embrace, rubbing his face with the back of his hand before giving On Ji his biggest grin. "I'll pick this lock like nobody's business. I once picked open the door to the Mayor's office so I could fill his desk with dead stink squids."

Quietly, On Ji giggled. "I'm sure you did." She stood and ruffled his hair once more before moving purposefully to their improvised tent flap. "Be careful," She said. Kuzane nodded, his eyes not leaving hers as she stepped out of the tent and into the moonlit night.

And then she was gone.

Kuzane waited a few moments, straining his ears as he tried to follow On Ji's footfalls. He lost her soon after she left the tent, but if he couldn't hear her, there was a good chance Combustion Man couldn't either.

"Hey Cueball! I'm already at the top of your little mountain, what are you going to do about it?" a loud voice, pitched to be as obnoxious and attention-catching as possible, rang clear across the hilltop.

…well, he could probably hear her now.

"FFFffffff….SSSSsssshhhhhhh"

***BOOM***

Kuzane winced. Yes, Combustion man had definitely heard her.

Turning back to the task at hand, Kuzane blocked out the jeers and explosions coming from outside the tent, instead focusing entirely on the padlock, pin, and dagger. Slowly, he inserted the dagger's tip into the key hole, then used the pin to hunt around the remaining space for the correct tumblers.

"Hey, Storyteller. You still alive up there?"

"If my throbbing, aching joints are telling me anything, it's that I indeed am very much alive."

"Good to know. I'd hate to be spending all this effort on a dead guy." Kuzane smiled as he heard the old man chuckle. "Don't worry; I'll have you sipping Sifu Tea-Stain's Jasmine Delight before sunrise."

"Sifu Tea-Stain?"

"Iroh and I bonded on the trip over here." Kuzane offered by way of an explanation.

With a final mechanical click, the lock snapped open and the chains fell to the ground. Storyteller sighed appreciatively, finally able to rub warmth and life back into his body. Kuzane poked him in the ribs. "Hey, can you wait to give yourself a once over until after we get off of this hilltop?

"Do I sense some hostility, Kuzane?"

"Well, it's kinda because of you that I'm even here."

Storyteller struggled to his feet, appreciatively taking's Kuzane's offered shoulder to lean on. "And you can thank me for this grand adventure later," The old man replied.

Together, the two crept quietly out of the tent. The nighttime air was dangerously still outside, carrying with it no sounds of battle or cranium-induced explosions. Still carrying most of Storyteller's weight, Kuzane half led, half dragged the old man past the campfire and towards where the pathway down the hilltop should have been.

In its place was a pockmarked Cliffside, deeply cratered and impossible to traverse.

"Great," Kuzane muttered, "He made it so no one can get up or down."

Storyteller peered into the darkness below. "Should we call down for help?"

Kuzane was about to reply when an ear-splitting scream cut across the hilltop. With Storyteller still mostly over his shoulder, Kuzane whipped around just in time to see On Ji burst out of the dense foliage not more than a stones-throw away. Her shout wasn't entirely finished before Combustion Man broke through as well, and sent an invisible blast of explosive death right at her. By some spirit's grace he narrowly missed, his explosion connecting with the very spot On Ji had been occupying a heartbeat before.

The explosion absolutely shattered what quiet the night had accrued. Dirt and rocks and shale violently removed themselves from the hilltop they had been a part of, On Ji flying along with them. The Order initiate was forced into a startlingly accurate impression of an Airbender—one that would have been comical if not for the blood-curling screams and earthen thud that followed after.

On Ji bounced and slid across the ground, finally coming to rest at Kuzane and Storyteller's feet. Together they bent down, and Kuzane found himself supporting two bodies now, one on either shoulder.

"I did…all…I could…" On Ji panted. Blood flowed freely from a nasty gash on the side her head, but aside from that she thankfully seemed unharmed. "He just…wouldn't stop coming…"

Storyteller seemed ready to reply, but Kuzane saw through the darkness a barreled chest expanding. With a strangled warning he pushed both hands out, shoving his charges as far out of harm's way as possible. Sweeping his hands in front of him he bent a barrier of flame just in time for Combustion Man's explosion to collide with it. The explosion threw Kuzane backwards, and his body skipped over the rocky ground until finally stopping before the newly created cliff edge.

Kuzane groaned and tried to stand, only managing a sitting position before Combustion Man was upon him. The killer grabbed Kuzane by the throat and hoisted him to eye level. His cold metal hand completely encircled the boy's neck, and Kuzane could no longer feel the ground beneath his feet. He kicked and squirmed desperately, though Combustion man only gave the smallest of smiles as he slowly and deliberately walked with arm outstretched to the very edge of the cliff.

Firebending was impossible—Kuzane couldn't get enough air in his lungs to mix with his chi and strike a flame. With his vision already beginning to fade, he frantically slashed with his dagger. The steel clanged against Combustion Man's arm uselessly, drawing no blood and only making a few pitiful sparks that cascaded over the mechanical limb before fading away into nothingness.

Wait… Sparks. The steel against the iron made sparks. Somewhere between his darkening vision and numbing brain, the barest glimmer of an idea twinkled into existence. Giving a pitiful gurgle, Kuzane made a show of gasping for air—he even managed to shed a few tears of desperation. All the while he kept weakly stabbing with his dagger, drawing the would-be murderer's attention while he covertly snuck his other hand into the bag of spark rocks at his waist.

Drawing on his last ounce of strength, Kuzane stabbed once more. Though this time, the dagger didn't only connect with an iron arm—first it passed through the igneous, combustible mass that was a palm-sized spark rock. The stone split, and a shower of bright blue sparks scattered in all directions. Kuzane's latest gurgle turned into a chuckle as he closed his eyes and bent the sparks into the biggest flash-fire he could. The effect was that for the briefest of seconds, the space between Kuzane and Combustion Man lit up like the finale of a Fire Day's firework show.

With a surprised grunt, Combustion Man dropped Kuzane and tired to cover his eyes. Kuzane hit the ground hard, but by some miracle of the spirits didn't buckle immediately to the ground. Instead, almost on instinct he swung his leg backwards and kicked. Hard. His lucky strike hit what was probably the last sensitive spot on Combustion Man's body, and the iron giant fell to his knees.

Before he had time to recover, On Ji had the heavy cooking pan raised over her head. With one massive swing she bludgeoned the back of Combustion Man's skull, knocking him out and sending him collapsing forward.

For a moment, everyone still conscious on the hilltop fell quiet—the shock of their victory almost too incredible to believe. Below them they heard the tell-tale sounds of Fung earthbending a route up the hilltop, and among them the only sounds were a crackling campfire and some exhausted pants. Predictably, Kuzane was the first to break the silence.

"Mmmmfff! Hey! Someone help get this guy off'a me!"

Storyteller and On Ji worked together to role the unconscious mass of muscle and steel that was Combustion Man off of their young friend. Once the boy was freed, Kuzane immediately scooted as far away from his and On Ji's victim as possible.

"Did we really get him? Is he…dead?"

"No," Storyteller answered, "Just unconscious. On Ji, go get the chains from the tent and bind him up. Kuzane, try and signal the others, please." The old man took charge at once, moving with almost none of his earlier weakness and pinning Combustion Man's arms behind his back. Taking a pot from next to the campfire, he placed it over his prisoner's head and tied it in place with the rags that were once his shirt.

"If he can't see, he can't make things explode."

The next hour was a surreal blur for Kuzane. The order quickly made it to the hilltop, rushing to secure the area and checking over their latest acquisition. On Ji received congratulations for her heroism and quick thinking, while Kuzane found himself clapped on the back more times than he could count. The group was brought down the hill and into what was once the center of the Rhino camp—a large circle of tents and wooden barricades that encompassed the biggest clearing on the island. Already Order members were escorting prisoners to ships, healing any wounded, and scouring the camp for intelligence.

Iroh, Piandao, and Fung all expressed their congratulations personally. Even Honna gave Kuzane a congratulatory smile and nod from across the camp. Slowly, the shock of his life-and-death battle wore off, and Kuzane was able to smile, then grin, and eventually laugh with pure joyous relief. The adventure was finally over, the story was written, and it actually had a happy ending after all.

Kuzane was half-way though his fourth demonstration of the hilltop battle for Iroh and the other masters when Zahra interrupted. "Sorry dearie, but something's come up." The tavern owner had none of her usual humor about her, and the mood around the campfire sobered instantly.

"What is it, Zahra?" Iroh asked, setting down his cup of tea.

"You mentioned before that the number of Rhino's on the island seemed too few."

Iroh nodded. "For an island this large and this defensible, it would make sense to have at least triple the force hidden here."

"Quadruple, actually." Zahra spoke grimly as she passed a scroll to Iroh. "I found this in the lieutenant's tent—it's instructions for a rendezvous with the rest of the island's forces. It seems that everyone here was just a place holding force, meant to keep the island under Rhino control. The rest of the troops are being deployed as we speak…they intend to attack tomorrow night on the full moon."

"Could that mean…" Iroh fell silent before reading the scroll's contents out loud. _"Lieutenant Zoa, you are to hold the island and the prisoner until such time that our beachhead is established and the Sage's isle is ours."_ Iroh looked up, an eyebrow raised. Clearing his throat, he continued. _"…link-up the Haima Hana expected to take place by tomorrow noon. We are also being given use of the Wu Lian's antiques…attack begins at first light of the full moon… expect next message sometime before new moon's arrival."_

"Sages isle… does that mean Roku's Island?" On Ji asked.

"I'm very afraid it does." Iroh sighed, and Kuzane saw for a moment all of the Grandmaster's years flicker across his tired face. "Swordmaster, if we were to send a messenger hawk to my Nephew immediately, would he be able to send troops in time?"

Piandao rubbed his chin, watching the first fingers of dawn creep across the tree line. "If the Full Moon is indeed tonight, than no. A Messenger Hawk might get there by noon today, but half a day isn't enough time for the Fire Nation Navy to reach such a remote location."

"The only ones in range to get there in time are us, Grandmaster," Honna spoke up, "we either move to defend the island, or allow the first invasion of Fire Nation territory in five years to go off without a hitch.

Iroh sighed again. "Then there is nothing for it. Piandao, send a hawk anyway—even if they arrive late, the Navy's support will prove useful. Honna, Zahra—get everyone to their ships, and set a course for Roku's island, full steam."

Quietly, Storyteller cleared his throat, and the group turned to him. Someone had found the presence of mind to wrap the old man in a soldier's cloak, as well as supply him with a stick to lean on. Kuzane thought it strange that he looked as if he hadn't been imprisoned at all.

"If I can request it, it would be very much appreciated if I could be dropped off before you all reach the island. There are… people who will be there that are not yet ready to see me."

"It will be so." Iroh stood, and it was as if the White Lotus stood with him. Kuzane looked around to find most Order members already gone from the camp, back on their ships and ready to catch a few hours sleep before the coming battle. He followed behind Iroh, suddenly worried that the story hadn't yet reached its happy ending.

If there even was one.

…………………

Slowly, Dawn stretched her rosy-colored fingers across the cresting ocean waves. As sun-shafts crept up the side of an unassuming cargo ship, they slowly illuminated the unusually peaceful sleeping face of a certain Fire Nation Princess.

Azula awoke to fingers on her face and feathers at her back. Almost unconsciously she recognized that she was lying against the warmed bulk of Fenghuang, but it took a second before she realized that the fingers pushing her bangs away from her face were not her own.

Quick as a flash, her golden eyes snapped open and she snatched the offending hand in an expert grip, squeezing the owner's tendons together painfully. Slowly she sat up, speaking in a dangerously low voice.

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

Mat gave a slightly pained, but still prideful grin. "Damn. You looked so peaceful asleep—nothing like a semi-reformed sociopath at all."

Azula squeezed harder. "You were touching me. Never touch me without my permission. Ever."

Mat's mood shifted—Azula could see it in his eyes—and his pained grin took on a slightly more antagonistic expression. "You know Princess…I could say the same thing."

When she first grabbed him, warmth had passed into Azula's body like always. But now Mat consciously pumped heat into his hand, hoping to make Azula drop it. She refused to give, instead choosing to dig her nails into his palm, drawing blood and piercing the tendons she had been grinding together. Mat only smiled that same manic grin he had shown in the cell, and upped the heat even more. His blood dripped from their hands to sizzle on the metal deck of the ship, but still neither backed down.

That is precisely when Fenghuang's large head butted between the two. She broke their contact with her beak, and seemed to admonish them with a set of harsh chirps. As if lifted from a spell Mat spun on his heel to face the rising sun, cursing softly under his breath. Azula sighed, crossed her arms over her chest, and sat back against the phoenix. Silently she watched Mat loosen his red obi and use the sash to bandage his hand.

"How did I get up here?" She asked.

"Fenghuang woke me up in the middle of the night, and wouldn't shut up until I let her out of the room."

Azula had insisted the bird sleep in Mat's quarters—it had followed her around the entire first day of their journey like a sick puppy while he sequestered himself away in the ship's engine room, absorbing heat from the boilers. After too many failed attempts at explaining to the animal that she had a reputation to keep and didn't want anything to do with it, Azula had eventually snuck off while Fenghuang was diving for fish and locked herself in her cabin.

"Anyway, I let her out," Mat continued, "and she went straight across the ship to your room. We heard you yelling and shouting, so I busted the door down."

Yes, almost immediately after locking herself in, Azula had regretted it. Her cabin on the ship, with its metal walls, floor, and ceiling, brought to surface many unhappy memories of the Boiling Rock. Memories that provoked nightmares, apparently.

Mat turned to lean against the rail, and Azula could see fresh scratches on his face and arms. "I tried to wake you, but you were pretty deep into whatever dream you were having. I carried you out into the open air—not without a struggle I might add—and let Fenghuang take over."

"You shouldn't have done anything," Azula replied tersely, "I don't want your help."

"And I don't particularly want to give it Princess." Mat grunted. He turned back to the rising sun, closing his eyes and attempting to eek some comfort out of the growing rays. "Despite whatever thoughts are jumping around in that exquisitely crafted head of yours this little trip wasn't my idea, and it's not some complex, intricate plan to get you to like me."

"Oh I didn't think so," Azula shot back, "you seemed to be getting plenty of 'likes' from that Earth Kingdom dirtball. Tell me Mat—are you really so pathetic you have to pursue a blind girl for affection?"

Mat spun around, livid. "You leave Toph out of this or so help me I will—" His threat died half-way finished. It seemed like his words solidified and ground to a halt halfway up his throat. Mat's eyes widened before rolling backwards into his head and his shoulders and chest heaved up, into his neck. He barely had enough presence of mind to turn back over the rail before he was emptying his stomach into the open ocean.

Unbidden, Azula's keen observational skills leapt into action. She noticed his left foot cringing and curling, toenails digging into the leather sandal that contained them. She watched as his entire body shook violently, what could only be withdrawal pangs now wreaking havoc not only with his mind, but his body as well. His hands gripped the metal railing, and soon the iron grew to a dull red as heat escaped his palms.

"How…" Mat panted to no one in particular, "How can one tiny piece of crystal do so much damage…"

It was a full five minutes before the spasms eased, and Mat's shoulders finally slumped in a sort of tired acceptance. He was utterly exhausted, his breath escaping him in a pitiful combination of gasps, pants and whimpers. Azula knew why the withdrawal was so bad—he'd spent the night out here watching over her, instead of down in the boiler room taking care of himself.

"You should go. Get cleaned up, whatever you need to do." She said softly.

Mat spat the remaining bile out of his mouth, wiping with the back of his bandaged hand. "Yeah... Sorry for the mess."

"I've seen worse. Ashes, I've _caused_ worse."

"Don't beat yourself up about it—what's done is done. Just don't go having any more nightmares, and we'll call it even." Mat moved towards the door unsteadily, his knees looking like they might give out at any moment.

"You don't need to be having nightmares at all, anyway," He continued, "we're almost to Roku's Island. You're going to make it safe and sound, I promise."

His words startled her—dreams forgotten upon waking resurfacing in fragmented bits and pieces. Azula turned her head to peek over Fenghuang's bulk and watch him leave. He gave no indication that he knew what he was saying, and after the door clanged shut she wrote it off as mere coincidence. With a sigh, Azula turned back to the oncoming sunrise, leaning deeper into Fenghuang and enjoying a rare moment of natural beauty.

That is, Azula did until she realized just what she was leaning against. This realization came surprisingly slow for one of her intelligence; it wasn't until the Phoenix began to preen Azula's hair with her beak that the Princess's mind snapped to attention.

"Alright. This ends now." Azula sat up and turned to face Fenghuang, who only looked back earnestly in return. "I don't know what kind of mother/daughter complex you have going here bird, but I have officially had enough of it."

Fenghuang simply chirruped once, before attempting to stretch her long neck out and resume her preening. Irritated, Azula pushed the animal's head back. "Maybe you don't understand. I'm Royalty. More than that, I'm Fire Nation Royalty. Being followed around and fawned over by some vapid flying feather mattress—"

At this Fenghuang let out an indignant squawk and shook her head, fixing Azula with a sharply intelligent look. "…Alright, perhaps a not-so-vapid feather mattress…but a mattress all the same." Azula crossed her arms and looked down her nose at Fenghuang—quite a feat, given that the bird's head was now raised above her own—before continuing. "It is improper and weak to become attached to some common animal, and I will not do such a thing. Don't expect any affection from me, Fenghuang. None whatsoever."

Fenghuang lowered her head until it met with Azula's. Softly she let out a string of notes, almost song-like in their order and pacing, as she rested her forehead against the Princess's. Eventually, Azula gave in and moved to sit back against the bird, allowing it to resume stroking her long raven air.

"Though…I guess I won't stop you from giving affection to me," she said grudgingly, "…just so long as we're clear on the way things work."

Fenghuang simply clucked once, and that was all.

_Here ends episode 7_

_ανδ σο ωε αρριυε το θε φιναλ σκενε..._

…\/…\/…\/…

A/N: bu is Chinese measurement for a yard  
cun is Chinese measurement for an inch


	20. Of Methods and Movements

The Avatar Saga—Azula's Redemption  
Chapter 19: Of Methods and Movements  
By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: come on, we know the drill—I own what I do, and don't what I don't.

_"Are you done pouting then? Ready to begin your training, Kouros?"_

"…Just tell me what I need to do, Old Man."

_"All in good time. First, let me show you what lies beneath Parnassus… Here is the Source in all its entirety—a mass of undiluted Mimema, of pure human creativity so strong that even gods cannot fully immerse without going mad."_

"WEll in the mErry month of JunE carriEd on our wayward sun and the whEEl in the sky kEEps on burning goodnEss gracious, grEat balls of firE!"

_"…And floating there in the middle of the Source is your cousin, the latest Pythia."_

"But soft, whAt light through yonder window breAks? It is the proud Phoebus, and MAtthiAs is the sun Arise, fAir sun, and kill the envious Archer, who is AlreAdy sick And pAle with grief, that thou, his Kouros, Art far more free than he."

_Here begins episode 8  
Τἑ φιναλ μουες αρε μαδε, βεφορε τ__ἑ__ ενδ βεγινς..._

...\/...\/...\/...

"Your Highness Princess Azula! Master White Phoenix Matthias! It is a pleasure and honor to greet you. Welcome, I'm Grand Fire Sage Shyu." Shyu bowed surprisingly low for someone his age. "And this is Roku's Island." The sage rose, gesturing proudly to the mountains, volcanoes, and pagodas behind him.

Crescent Moon Island had been rebuilt since the war's end. The massive five-tiered pagoda reconstructed and expanded, now including two smaller three-tiered pagodas on either side—one housing the Sage's Order, the other for apprentice sages, pilgrims, and guests of the island. Roku's Temple atop the tallest pagoda had also been brought back to life—Avatar Aang himself spent five days locked in the chamber that housed Roku's effigy, working to anchor the former Avatar's spirit to the statue. When he left, Aang assured Shyu that Roku could once again be reached every winter solstice, just like several years before.

Of course, none of this would have happened without the Fire Lord's interest in releasing unlawfully jailed citizens. Upon hearing of his deeds protecting the Avatar, Zuko had released Shyu from prison and named him Grand Sage of the entire Sage's Order. The two had worked tirelessly together—the first time Fire Lord and Sage had collaborated in over a hundred years. Shyu moved the Order's headquarters from Capital Island to Roku's Temple, citing that ever since the rise of the Royal family the two powers had been contending against one another for power. In his opinion, the only way to ensure a lack of future animosity was by creating a buffer of land and sea—the time it took to go back and forth would cool heated passions and latent machinations.

Shyu himself was a wonder all his own. Thickly built and heavily muscled, he looked nothing like the old, feeble hermits Azula had watched bow and scrape through Capital City, impotently bending to her father's heated will. As she returned the man's bow with a slight nod, Azula mused if he might actually be capable of restoring her lost bending.

"It's good to meet you Shyu." Mat grinned, surveying the island. "I like what you've done with the place."

"Oh? I didn't realize you had travelled here before."

"I haven't. I've just seen a, um, painting of the temple before Roku's spirit destroyed it."

"Ahh. I see." Shyu turned to Azula. "Your Highness, Fire Lord Zuko has informed me of your... complication."

Azula's eyes narrowed, and she tossed her bangs out of her face with a flick of her head. "That's the best avoidance of the issue I've heard yet. Just call it what it is—I've lost my bending. Why is everyone so nervous around me?"

"People are nervous because you've got this nasty reputation of setting things on fire after they've upset you, Princess," Mat remarked casually. After some quality time with their ship's boiler room, Mat had staved off his withdrawal symptoms and improved his mood dramatically. Unfortunately, a happy Matthias most often meant an annoyed Azula.

"The whole problem right now is my lack of setting things on fire," she retorted.

"Just because you can't shoot fire from your fingertips doesn't mean you wouldn't drop a torch on someone while they're sleeping."

"I'd drop a torch on you if I didn't know it was just going to make you more tiresome."

"Ahem," Shyu coughed into his hand, politely reminded the arguing duo that they weren't alone. "Whatever the semantics, there is an imbalance that needs correcting. Your Highness, would you like to begin training now, or would you rather use this morning to rest from your journey?"

"The sooner I can bend, the sooner I can leave."

"Yes, well then," to his credit Shyu gave no indication he was insulted by Azula's attitude. "I will have your things brought to your room. Will you be joining us for training, Master White Phoenix?"

"Please, just call me Phoenix," Mat joked, "and not if I don't need to be. This little cruise has filled my angry princess quota for the day." Mat skipped to the side, avoiding Azula's sweeping kick. He kept moving, shouting over his shoulder, "I'll be back around noon. If you need someone to give her a spanking, you can find me at the lava flows. Come on Fenghuang, let's go eat.

The phoenix rose off the ship's bow and flapped after Mat, singing a farewell to Azula as she passed. Locking his elbows and throwing his hands behind him, Mat used short bursts of flame to launch himself up the mountain, leaping and bounding up and then over the lip of the volcano.

"An interesting fellow," Shyu mused, "he certainly fits into the Avatar's group of eclectics."

"I'll give you my half of the royal coffers to poison his lunch."

"An enticing offer." Shyu smiled, gesturing to the temple and leading Azula up a path of steep steps carved into the igneous, volcanic earth. "But I would much rather hear about the problem at hand. When did you first notice your lack of firebending?"

"About a week ago, after breaking out of the Boiling Rock. It might have left me some time before that, but I wasn't able to bend in the cooler anyway, so I couldn't tell."

"The loss of one's bending is never something that goes unnoticed." The temple doors opened wide, and Azula followed Shyu through the hallways within. Sages bowed as they passed, while apprentices bobbed their heads respectfully as they scurried to and fro on errands for their masters. Azula followed one boy with her eyes—he nearly dropped his armful of scrolls when he noticed her gaze. She sighed before Shyu asked another question. "Was there a moment during your imprisonment when your inner fire left you?"

"…I don't know what you mean by 'inner fire'."

Shyu led her up a staircase, to the second tier of the pagoda. They moved outside and onto a balcony, one with a spectacular view of the entire island. In the distance Azula could see plots of developed land, rows of crops coming to bloom in the spring sunlight. Below her was a training ground, and on it practiced a group of apprentices instructed by a senior sage.

"The inner fire," Shyu spoke as they watched the training exercises, "is the source of a firebender's power. It is what drives the flame, giving one's bending the spark from which the outer blaze ignites. Other bending disciplines utilize the elements outside them, while our power comes from within."

"There's something different about their firebending." Azula spoke as she watched the apprentices' pair of and begin sparring. "The fire seems hotter than normal. The flames reach farther."

"You have a sharp eye, Your Highness. Before Fire Lord Zuko came to power, firebending had come to be fueled solely by aggression, hate, and hostility. The firebender was taught to never cease moving forward, to always attack."

"Just like it's always been."

"Not always. Sozin decreed his method of violent, malicious firebending law—requiring all firebenders to follow his school of thought. Before him, a firebender's inner fire was fueled not by negative emotion, but rather that bender's unique passion."

Shyu spread his hands. "Creativity, honor, empathy, logic—anything that instills passion within the bender becomes fuel for their inner fire. Your brother once told me how he lost his passion for finding and capturing the Avatar. That loss was accompanied by a decrease in his bending strength. He needed a new passion, a new source to fuel his inner fire." Shyu turned back to the training. "He found it in his drive to bring balance to the world, and to redeem his family's honor."

"So you say that true firebending, this 'inner fire' philosophy, comes from a person's drive?"

"Not quite. If it were a matter of willpower, than any Fire Nation citizen could meditate long enough and achieve the ability to firebend. No, the key to true firebending is to focus on the world outside oneself—using one's surroundings as a source for their inner fire. One must make use of the external world to stir about their internal passion."

"But that's a contradiction," Azula reasoned, "You're saying that I have to use something outside myself to fuel the fire I create. But if I use the fire inside myself to bend, then I'd be burning the world outside myself, therefore burning down the source of my inner fire."

"That would be the case if the source of your inner fire was a physical thing, such as a person or a place. Therefore, your inner fire must be driven by an unburnable entity—an idea, a method of thought, a passion or a lifelong philosophy," Shyu chuckled, "unless of course you manage to find a person or thing that's unburnable."

Azula noticed the activity below her lull. Those assembled at the practice grounds had stopped sparring and were looking up at the volcano. She turned to look as well, and watched as an immense arc of flame rose from within the dome, along with a giant red bird soaring on the thermals created by it.

"It would seem your friend is making progress in his training. Why don't we go inside and see if we can't do the same, hmm?"

Shyu moved back inside the pagoda, leaving Azula to watch the flame a moment longer. After a beat she shook her head, pushing errant thoughts to the back of her mind and following Shyu inside.

"First I must gauge your knowledge of firebending. Suppose you are surrounded by earthbenders on solid, even ground, what forms would you use and in what order?"

"Cat Crosses the Courtyard, Leaf on the Breeze, then Threading the Needle and Lion Springs on Lamb," Azula answered without pausing.

"Correct. Now suppose its noon inside a tavern. There is one opponent, a skilled spearman. The room is full of bystanders—who we don't want hurt, by the way," Shyu added the last part as an afterthought, "what style would be best, given the time of day and enclosed space?"

"Southern Dragon Claw."

"Risky given the spearman's reach, no?"

"In close quarters it wouldn't matter, he couldn't use the spear effectively," Azula answered. The two reached the top of another set of stairs, and Shyu held the door open for her as she entered the third tier of the pagoda. "Besides, Southern Dragon Claw utilizes more restrained bending—I'd be less likely to set the place ablaze."

"Correct again. It would seem that your knowledge in tactics has yet to dull. Let's see if you can still put that knowledge to practice." Shyu moved aside a rice-paper door, exposing the private dojo that lay within. The floor was wooden and polished, with Tanami mats covering the practice area. Two scrolls hung on the wall, meant to inspire and advise those training within.

_"Blaze forth with the fire that is never extinguished."_

_"Absorb what is useful; disregard that which is useless."_

"Show me every form and style you just spoke of." Shyu's voice left no room for debate. Gone was the amiable philosopher she had been speaking too. Standing before Azula now was a firebending Master—a man who would burn you to cinders if he was shown the slightest sign of weakness. "If there's a flaw in your technique that's stifling your bending, I shall find it."

Azula removed her shoes and moved to the center of the mats. She waited for Shyu to seat himself before closing her eyes; she breathed deeply, flooding her body with air. As soon as she felt Shyu settle on his cushion she was moving—dragon-stepping towards an imagined enemy in front of her. Her arms swept and flowed in swift, crushing movements, mimicking the serpentine grace and speed of the original firebenders.

With a sweep of her foot Azula changed postures. Press-stepping now, her feet came together like the coils of a dragon, shrinking and striking at unpredictable intervals. She moved swiftly along the floor, bearing down on her ghostly enemy with ferocious speed. Her movements were powerful and quick, precise to the hairsbreadth.

Each strike was mixed with chi—it originated in the feet, moving upwards through the stomach to flow and mix with the air in her lungs before extending and pushing out of her fists. She could feel the memory of her fire moving through her, like a phantom limb. She knew exactly how it should happen; she kept her breathing and chi perfectly in balance. But still—no fire.

"Enough Dragon Claw," Shyu ordered from his seat, "the forms girl. Show me the forms!"

Azula danced across the dojo, her feet barely making a sound as she flipped and flew across the woven mats. She cut through a slew of ghostly enemies—Threading the Needle became Leopard's Caress became Ash on High Wind.

Sweat began to bead and flow over her skin; she moved faster, her hands a blur of deadly precision and lethal grace. Phoenix Takes Flight became Two Hares Leaping became Cat Crosses the Courtyard.

Why wasn't it working? She was doing everything right! Sparks on High Wind became Lion Springs on Lamb became Rhino Circles the Herd.

Through her flying hair and stinging sweat she saw her hated enemy. The shaded figure Azula struck at embodied her lack of bending, her lack of power—her lack of independence. Flame Furrowing Forth became Eagle's Killing Blow became Cinders on the Ground.

"Enough! Your Highness, you must stop!"

Like a torch drenched with water, Azula sputtered and faltered in the middle of Leaf on the Breeze. She was startled to find Shyu lying on the mats before her, panting heavily. He had stepped onto the dojo floor, giving shape to the phantom fighter without her even realizing it. Her shoulders sagged and she pulled her rigid hand from its place inches above his collarbone.

"There is most certainly," Shyu panted, "nothing wrong with your technique."

He moved to the door and opened it, sending a waiting apprentice for water. "Had there been flames along with those fists, I'd have been dead half an hour ago."

Azula looked out the window of the dojo. The sun was already nearing its peak; she had been going through the forms and styles for hours without realizing it. She had never become so lost in simple training before. Always her mind floated to other things as she moved—simple forms never used to be enough to occupy her full attention.

"What is wrong with me?" she muttered out the window softly.

Shyu slid the door closed again. "Yours is an interesting case, Your Highness. You lack not the knowledge, nor the practice or the drive to firebend."

"Then what is it? What's keeping me from my bending?"

"I can think of only one other possibility, one more test to perform." She could hear the scratching of feet moving against Tanami mats. "Your Highness, this is for your own good."

Azula barely had time to turn and face the Grand Sage before he was shooting a volley of fireballs straight at her. Like before, she moved on instinct—a firebender's instinct, drilled into her core since she could walk. A normal person would cringe, a trained fighter would dodge…but the Princess attacked.

Azula balled her fist and punched through the first ball of flame, dissipating it instantaneously. Keeping the punch's momentum and rotating her shoulders she twisted, spinning her entire body and reducing the second fireball to harmless embers with a strike from her bare foot. She found her stance just in time to catch the last ball with the back of her palm, slapping the fireball back at its creator. Shyu rolled aside, and the fireball sped past him and through the rice-paper door, leaving a flaming hole through which a scorch mark could easily be seen scouring the opposite wall.

Grand Sage Shyu was barely on his feet before Azula had him by the throat and up against the dojo wall. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you," Azula squeezed down on the man's windpipe, "you have till your throat collapses."

"B-Because…" Shyu choked and his eyes widened in pain, though he wore a tenuous smile regardless. "I know… gack… what has happened to your bending."

"Your Highness! P-please release Grand Sage Shyu! Do it now or I'll toast you!" The apprentice that had been sent for water burst into the dojo, ready to fight. His stance visibly weakened when her golden eyes flicked to him, assessing whether or not he posed a threat.

"You'll…toast me?" The ghost of a smirk passed over her lips.

Audibly, the apprentice swallowed. "I… I'll do it."

"Stand down Kwon," Shyu gasped out, "there is no threat to me here."

"…There will be," Azula released him, "if you don't tell me something useful."

Shyu sank to the ground, his back sliding against the wall and bruises already forming on his neck. The apprentice rushed to his side, checking for further injury. He brushed the young man off. "It's all right Kwon, I provoked her into attacking. I had to see how she would handle a surprise attack, how her body would instinctively react to fire."

The old sage slowly rose to his feet, leaning heavily on Kwon. "I thought that maybe you had somehow simply lost the ability to bend. We know now that's not the case—no one but a firebender could have dissipated and reflected that level of heat without burning her skin.

Azula took a drink from the water jug, quietly inspecting the back of her hand. There wasn't a mark on it. "So then, what do I lack?"

"It is the oddest thing…I'll need some time to think on it." Shyu stiffly made his way to the wrecked door, helped by his apprentice. "Ooh. And some time with a medic. Why doesn't Your Highness go to her room and clean up—we'll talk more during the noon-time meal."

"Why can't you just tell me now?"

"Because frankly Your Highness, it hurts to speak."

"…I'll see you at lunch then."

* * *

The rosy-fingered dawn stretched her hand across the horizon. Incandescent drops of gold flecked frothing white foam as towering waves crashed against the cliffs below. The sky was a brilliant menagerie of color—pinks, blues, oranges and reds. The hues blended and melted against the skyline, a stunningly intricate and complex maelstrom of tints, shades, and highlights.

Of course, Toph didn't really care.

She didn't care about sunrises, or sunsets for that matter. Dawn, dusk, high-noon—it was all the same inky blackness to her. The position of the sun only really mattered because everyone else seemed to base their lives around it. Personally, it was sort of offensive—all the talk of mornings, afternoons and evenings. It was one more thing that made Toph feel different, alien, alone. Alone in the dark…the story of her life.

It wasn't her friends' fault. They didn't even know it bothered her. There was nothing they could do about the way people thought about time, so she didn't bother complaining about it to them. No, she bore this particular frustration like she bore all her problems—stoically, quietly, internally—as was her nature to do.

At least, that's how she treated unsolvable problems. Anything else she faced head-on—also true to her element. Toph was blunt and honest, not hesitating in the slightest to tell Zuko when Mai was particularly upset with him or when Aang and Katara needed to find a room for their necking. She would also never hesitate when one of her friends needed a person to vent at, or a shoulder to cry on. Toph was the anchor of the group; solid, durable, and always there.

But that then begged the question…who was there for her?

"Remember—breathe through the movements. This kata isn't about striking out on your own; it's about cohesiveness as a unit. Toph, keep the arm straight."

Toph brought her arm in a circular motion and stepped forward, exhaling through her nose. Pivoting on her right foot she swung her body around, facing the rising sun. She could tell because the growing light warmed her cheeks, and the breeze coming from the ocean pushed her bangs out of her pale green eyes.

It reminded her of how he often pushed the hair out of her eyes, how his cupped hand warmed her cheeks. He was there for her—maybe only in sporadic, flighty moments—but there all the same. It was he who helped her get over her wartime crush on Sokka, his gentle jokes and hard truths helping her to "see the light" as it was. He had been there, standing beside her when she returned home for the first time since she ran away, full of lewd jokes and obnoxious behavior. He had transferred all her parents' wrath onto himself—shielding her from any anger they might have accrued during her time away.

"Now inhale, and move through the next form smoothly. Let the movement flow out of you, controlled and fluidic. Like water. Easy, Mai. Less rigid, loosen your shoulders."

From her left, Toph heard an over-dignified sniff, "I'm not exactly a 'fluidic' or 'water' type of woman, Suki."

"Well it doesn't hurt to try new things. Right Toph?"

Toph grinned as she brought her left foot forward, feeling two other feet move in sync with hers through the cool grass. "Might as well go along with her, Sunshine. Facepaint forced me into her Kyoshi-kata training years ago. Trust me, there's no escape."

The figure on Toph's right played at sounding hurt. "Spirits, Ty Lee was a much better student than you too. She never complained about learning kata."

"That's because Ty Lee will do anything you tell her too as long as you're paying her enough attention—she's like a puppy."

"A puppy that learns her kata, at least."

Toph focused on the motions and concentrated on her breathing. It wasn't long before she felt a prick between her shoulder blades—someone was looking at her. "What's with you, Toph?" Mai asked wryly, "Normally you would have said something sarcastic about Ty Lee by now. You had a great opening with a puppy theme and everything."

"Come to think of it." Suki picked up the thread without missing a step of her kata. "You've been awfully quiet since the summit banquet. Is something wrong?"

Toph brought her hands up and down, side to side. It had taken her a while to learn the kata—she had to follow Suki's vibrations through the ground instead of simply watching her move. It was difficult, but there wasn't anything anyone could do for her, so she never mentioned it. Well, she mentioned it to him once. He had just laughed that comforting laugh of his and shared with her a secret of his own:

_"If it makes you feel any better Bandit, I've never had the patience to learn any fancy fighting forms—I just latch on with my heat senses and try to get the opponent angry enough to make a mistake."_

"Nothing's wrong. I've just had a lot on my mind."

"What could possibly be going through that head other than nicknames, cutting remarks, and new ways to contort metal?" Mai's dry voice on her left.

"I bet it's a boy, Mai. Toph's never had a boy of her own—I bet the fact that we all do is absolutely infuriating." Suki's bright voice on her right.

Toph resisted the urge to send them both flying over the cliff in a shower of earth. "You're both horrible. You're boyfriends should be warned just what viper-rat nests they're marrying into."

"Excuse me, but Zuko's the one with enough emotional baggage to fill the palace courtyard."

"And Sokka wouldn't be able to focus on anything for more than a day if I wasn't there to keep him on task."

"Even so," Toph muttered darkly, "a warning should be made."

"So what is it then? Is it the weather? The food? The boredom? I'm sure there will be plenty of heads to crack soon, don't worry."

"Spirits forbid I go more than a week without bloodying a nose, huh Facepaint?"

"It's Azula, isn't it?" Mai asked quietly, "You still don't think we should trust her."

Toph sighed before moving through another kata. "Look. I've met lots of people from every corner of the world. And all of them, _all of them,_ lie. I can feel it when someone lies—deep down inside their heartbeats, I can feel it." As one, the three girls swept forward with their arms, opening their palms like the unfurling of a fan.

"But Platypus…" Toph straightened and slowly circled in place, her hands in a defensive posture. "I get nothing. She could be saying anything to get us on her side. Just reciting whatever she thinks we want to hear."

"So you don't trust her," Suki spoke through the long, graceful movements of her arms, "because you can't see through her? That seems like pretty weak logic to me. We can't always tell if someone's lying, Toph. Just because we can't know for sure doesn't mean they are, it just means that they—and we—are human."

"All I'm saying is you can't just dress a badgermole in an apron and expect it to serve tea."

"You're sure this has nothing to do with the fact that she's on a far away island with your 'bird-boy' right now, and you're stuck here doing Suki's kata?" Toph could practically drown in Mai's sardonic smirk, even if she couldn't see it.

"For the last time, I—"

Toph broke her kata and straightened, her head cocked as if listening to something.

"What is it?" Suki ceased her movement as well.

"Someone's earthbending," Toph said quietly, "it's not the first time I've felt earthbending from over here, but I always thought it must've just been Twinkle Toes training…"

"But he's in town with Katara," Suki supplied, "they left after dinner last night and said they wouldn't be back until noon."

Toph knelt and put her hand to the ground, her brow furrowed.

"It's coming from below us—in a cave lower down on the cliffs."

"There are no caves here," Mai assured her, "these cliffs are sheer—I've passed them in the royal skiff enough times to know that."

"Well I'm telling you, a cave just opened up about twenty yin below us, and if you took a peak over the cliff I bet you'd see a boat or something moving out to meet whoever is down there."

* * *

Kerji had served the royal family since she was a child. Her mother had served them before that, just as her grandmother had before her. She never thought of anything more than the occupation she currently held—serving her Fire Lord faithfully and fully.

That was, until her son had been born.

Kerji and her husband were overjoyed to find out she was pregnant. Fire Lord Zuko had called it a blessing for a child to be born so early in his reign, and had given the couple full leave to prepare for the baby's arrival. He had even thrown a small celebration with the staff, so that everyone could congratulate the mother-to-be.

Late last summer, the baby came. That night Kerji was alone in the bedroom with the midwife Fire Lord Zuko had sent to help her deliver. Her husband waited outside, praying to the spirits for an easy delivery. The spirits were kind—her baby was healthy and strong. The midwife held in her arms an infant boy, a precious gift of rosy skin and hearty screams.

But no sooner had the cord been cut and the child cleaned then _he_ came, appearing out of nowhere, from the ground itself. His face was covered with an earthen mask and his limbs seemed carved from blackened stone. He was impossibly tall. Before the midwife could scream for help he had silenced her, his stone gloves tearing through her skin without remorse. Then in a whispered, muffled voice he gave Kerji an impossible choice—become his spy in the royal house or suffer the same fate, along with a promise that her son would follow to the Spirit World soon after her.

Terrified, Kerji accepted. As insurance her son was taken for safekeeping by the masked man, who disappeared as silently as he had came. The story came to be that the baby was stillborn—and that Kerji had killed the midwife in a fit of depressed rage. Her husband was broken; he took his own life soon afterwards. Fire Lord Zuko took the loss personally, and promised Kerji that she would want for nothing. In his mind, she had suffered enough. He invited her to live in the palace as a permanent guest but she refused, asking instead to simply return to her job, serving her Fire Lord fully and faithfully.

Every new moon she would retire to her quarters and find a present awaiting her—a bit of hair, a stone rattle—some token or trinket proving her son was still alive. This latest new moon there was no present. Instead there were instructions hewn on a clay tablet; the people who had taken her son finally had a use for her. She was to root out the Fire Lord's secrets—things about his personal life and his friends, whatever he was planning, thinking, and doing. She was to report her findings once a week, at a cave that lay beneath the cliffs of the royal palace. The note promised that if she did her job well, she might get to see her son.

_She might. _

So every week at dawn's first light she took a little-used stairway carved from the side of the dormant crater the palace rested within. She took the staircase to a tiny platform on the water's edge, where a rowboat awaited her. She'd slowly make her way along the shoreline and just before her tiny boat was dashed against the cliff a passageway would open up, and she'd enter into the cave that shouldn't exist. She'd report what she knew and be told, "Good job, Kerji. You're closer to your son than you were before. One more week."

It was always, "One more week".

And so just as she had done the last four weeks Kerji walked, rowed, and entered the cave. It wasn't large—barely enough room for her contact to live in. She wondered what kind of man could take living down in this cave—his entire purpose seemed to be receiving her information and passing it along, and the only other thing in the cave besides basic living necessities was a solid bar of steel. She never thought about what it could be for, and she often didn't think about the man himself for any length of time. Instead, she'd think about her son. She always thought about her son.

"Well? What is the gossip this week?" The man's voice was always muffled behind his smooth, featureless mask. It gave away no identity, no recognizable features. It made him look as if he was constantly being buried alive, buried alive in a cave that shouldn't exist.

"The White Phoenix isn't at the palace anymore. Fire Lord Zuko threw him out—Her Highness Azula too."

"Where are they?"

"They left on a boat—it wasn't marked. I don't know where it went too."

"Ahh, yes you do." The man could have been laughing beneath his mask, Kerji couldn't tell. "And you'll tell me where they went, or your son will be dead before noon-time today."

"Please. Please let me see my son! I've done what you asked, I don't know any more!"

"Put your ear to the wall." The man commanded and she obeyed. The cave grew quiet— if not for the sunlight that streamed though the small entrance, it would have been little more than tomb. It wasn't hard then for her to hear the screams only a mother would recognize. Her son was right there, stashed so frivolously behind a spirit-forsaken wall of dirt and stone and shale.

"I was going to allow you two some time together after your report was finished—pity an infant uses up so much air screaming like that."

Kerji clawed at the cave wall, screaming for her child. Her fingers cut and bled, leaving warm, red splotches against the unyielding stone. She could hear her son screaming back, but with every bawl his voice seemed to get fainter and fainter.

"I told you everything I know! Please don't kill my son! Please please please don't kill him!"

"Where are they going? Where did the White Phoenix and the disgraced Princess vanish too?"

Kerji made a noise like a dying animal. Her hands were a mess of dirt and blood and tears.

"C-Crescent Moon Island. They're on Crescent Moon Island so Azula can relearn firebending."

The masked man waved his hand, and the wall gave way. A small infant, pale and emaciated, tumbled into his mother's shaking arms. Sobbing, she clutched him to her breast, smothering her face in his hair and quietly babbling her joy into his ear.

"Say goodbye to him Kerji. You wasted what reunion time you were allotted with that little act of rebellion." The man stomped his foot, and a tablet jumped out of the ground and into his waiting hand. With his stone glove he began to scratch characters into the clay. "I want you out of here so I can deliver my report before the attack begins beneath the full moon's light—"

The masked man paused, as if listening. Suddenly he dived to the side as a column of earth came crashing down on the spot he had previously occupied, knocking the tablet out of his hand and crushing it. The stone wall opposite him gave way, and out stepped Suki, Toph, and Mai.

"Funny thing about earth, dirtbag." Toph cracked her knuckles. "It's not near as thick as you'd think. Given the right kind of bending and you can hear conversations though solid rock like it wasn't even there."

Suki rushed to check on Kerji and her son, while Mai stood between them and the masked man, her stilettos ready.

"Kerji, are you hurt?" She asked over her shoulder.

"L-Lady Mai! I'm s-so sorry. They had my son, I couldn't—"

"Shh, it's okay." Suki soothed the despondent mother, "we heard everything. It's okay, you're safe now."

"Quite an assumption, Kyoshi-spawn." The man cackled beneath his mask, "I was given three jobs to do in this spirit-forsaken nation—receive information from that wretched creature, report it to my superiors, and avoid getting caught alive."

"Well, it sure seems like you're up for some re-training then, because you just failed all three," came Mai's terse response.

"I don't think so. The operative world in those orders was 'alive'. If I have to die, then who better but a spawn, a harlot and an abomination as travelling companions to the Spirit World?"

The man jumped backwards, and as he landed his fists pounded into the back wall at the same time his stone-enclosed feet sank into the earth. The cave shook, immediately collapsing over his body and crushing him. Like a tidal wave of death the avalanche of falling boulders spread, filling the cave with dust and debris.

"Everyone get around me!" Toph coughed over the din. The entrance was next to go, plunging the cave into total darkness—turning the temporary home into a permanent tomb.

The sun was well above the horizon now, its rays of gold and amber casting away all shadow and misconception. The sky was blue and infinite, a cerulean abyss mirroring the ocean that caressed its airy edge.

Of course, Toph didn't really care.

What she did care about was the breeze she felt as her hand broke free of the earth's embrace. She cared about the smell of sea salt filling her nose and the taste of sweet, fresh air as she surged upwards and filled her lungs. These were the things Toph cared about, these along with the four other bodies she was earthbending to the surface with her.

Suki coughed and hacked, spitting grit from her mouth and wiping dirt from her eyes. Of course Toph couldn't see her, but she guessed her friend looked horrible.

"Let's never do that again—ever."

Toph felt Mai move to the mother and son. Worse, she felt one of their heartbeats steadily getting weaker. The smell of blood mingled with the sweetness of the air, tainting it.

"Kerji, it's going to be ok, we'll get you to a healer and—"

"Lady…Lady Mai."

Toph felt the heartbeat stop, and heard the young infant cry. She could tell Suki was trembling, and knew Mai wasn't far from losing it as well, no matter how hard she tried to remain impassive. So Toph did what she had to do—she pushed aside her own emotions and shouldered theirs. She was the anchor, and spirits take her if she let any of her friends drift out to sea.

"Mai, take the baby to the palace and get Zuko out of his meetings. Suki, wake up Sokka and go to the stables. Start saddling Appa—war armor, not just the riding saddle. I'll go find Aang and Katara and meet you all in a few minutes."

"Toph wait! Where are we going?"

"He said they were going to attack Roku's Island on the full moon—that's tonight isn't it?

"…Spirits…"

Toph slid down the hillside, collecting rocks and dirt as she moved. Summoning an earth wave and increasing her speed, she picked out her friend's heartbeats before making a beeline into town.

"Yeah…" she muttered beneath her breath, "that's what I thought."


	21. Of Stealing and Sonnets

The Avatar Saga—Azula's Redemption  
_**Chapter 20: Of Stealing and Sonnets**_  
By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: come on, we know the drill—I own what I do, and don't what I don't.

"_ThrOUghOUt histORy the neXus BEtwEEn mAN anD goD hAs spUN sOme of the moST drAmAtIc, compeLLing, and entERtAInINg fiCTion EvEr to be dILated thrOUgh a lenS of OrthOgrAphy."_

"Why…why does she talk like that?"

"_She was given to me at birth, like all Pythia before her, and placed here within the Source. All Mimema, all human imagination, flows over and around her like a million million weaves. When one of the threads that makes up that weave begins to unravel, she senses and speaks of it. Before the scattering it was the Muse's labor to understand her riddles and then repair the frayed thread. I will perform this task while you are training, and then once your lessons are complete you will take over as the Musagetes, maintaining fiction in its entirety."_

"I never knew I had a cousin…Does she even have a name?"

"_She was given to me before her mother, your aunt, had laid a single look upon her. Her father held her in his arms just long enough to hand her over to me. She has no identity save that of the Pythia, and her labor will inexorably end her life sooner than yours will your own. Then, just as it has before, the cycle will begin again."_

"s_EaSCAPE pORtrait of the wOman chilD. CavErn of the Soul Escape Clauses fly. nOt that which is preached upoN them Do not. Cry Matthias I forget your tears soon after."_

…\/…\/…\/…

"You crushed Shyu's throat?" Mat laughed around a mouthful of spiced bread, "that's awesome. Maybe tomorrow we can take a trip to Omashu and you can grind King Bumi's face into some mud."

"It wasn't nearly that bad—just some light bruising." Azula's lips pressed together to make a thin smile in spite of herself. While still yielding no results, the morning's activities had lifted her spirits slightly. "He really should have asked permission before attacking though."

"Oh yeah, because it's not awkward at all to ask the Princess of the Fire Nation if it's alright to throw a fireballs at her. Give the poor guy some credit—it's bad enough his theatrics bit him in the ass. The last thing he needs is you holding it over him."

"I'll keep it in mind. So what about you two?" Aula picked at her meal delicately. "Any theatrics on the mountain-top today?"

"Technically it's called a dome." Mat reached for an orange. "And yeah, I guess we sort of caught a few apprentices off guard…they were sent to collect some spark rocks and ended up spooking Fenghuang. She nearly burnt their heads off."

Fenghuang rose from her preening and chirruped in contention. She had expelled much of her stored heat before returning down the mountainside, and was now small enough to perch on the table next to her two humans. With an indignant squawk she softly butted Mat's shoulder with her head.

"What? You totally threw the first shot." Fenghuang clicked her beak and gave Azula a significant look.

"Hey! I freaked out because you freaked out. Not the other way around," Mat tried to defend himself, "You were the one who got startled, not me."

"There there, Fenghuang, I believe you." Azula fed the phoenix some meat from her plate. "I'll always believe you over the annoying loud man. A_lways_."

"The bird does have an air of honesty you seem to lack, Master Phoenix." Shyu sat himself next to Mat and reached for the plate of spiced komodo meat.

"Master Shyu, It's good to see you moving. How's the trachea holding up?" Mat grinned. "You're lucky you didn't try to kiss her. Take it from me, there's no pain on this world like a Princess's foot connecting with your—"

"Grand Sage," Azula interrupted, "about my… actions earlier today."

"No words are needed." Shyu waved her off. "It's noted however—and I'm thankful for it. You were reacting out of instinct. Quite effectively, I might add." The old man sighed, rubbing his sore neck. "If I was your age, I would have reacted much the same."

"You?" Mat asked, "Grand Sage Shyu, friend of the Avatar and the first Sage to rebel from a Fire Lord in over a hundred years? I always figured you for a pacifist."

"Before I took over my father's position as Sage, I served in the royal Navy." Shyu patted his arms. "You don't think I developed this muscle ringing the temple bell, did you?"

"Shoot, you guys have a bell? I know what I'm checking out tomorrow." Mat's grin dropped as Fenghuang nipped his ear. "Ow! What?"

"Grand Sage," Azula gave Mat a look before turning to Shyu. "Have you come to any conclusions regarding my bending?"

"I think I have," Shyu took a breath, setting his thoughts in order, "I've effectively ruled out a lack of knowledge, skill, or ability from my diagnosis. Each of those things you have in spades." The Sage furrowed his brow. "I've then concluded, Your Highness, that what you lack is the proper willpower."

Mat choked on a piece of orange. "Willpower? Are you kidding? She's got more willpower than anyone I know, including me—the guy who wills fire into existence."

"Not quite. What your majesty has is an indomitable drive, a deep determination to succeed. For a normal person yes, that would constitute exceptional willpower. But for a firebender however, resolve is only half the equation."

Azula leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

"Think about it like this," Shyu took a teapot and tea cup, presenting it to his audience. "I hold here two halves of one whole. The tea, and the cup. The cup offers structure, guidance, a way to contain and control. The cup is determination, or _will_." Shyu set the cup on the table and began pouring tea into it. "The tea offers energy, heat, and substance. The tea is passion, or _power_."

Mat nodded his head. "Without the cup, the tea can't be channeled and put to use. It's just unbridled emotion—directionless and impossible to take advantage of."

"And without the tea," Azula continued, "the cup is simply a shell. A brittle piece of china, holding nothing, serving no purpose."

"Exactly." Shyu smiled grimly. "Your majesty has no lack of determination; however you have lost your motivation, and therefore the fuel for your inner fire. It's actually quite strange…normally a firebender's passion and determination arise and mature together. One is passionate about something, and is therefore determined to protect, enable, or achieve said passion."

Azula knew then what had happened. She used to be passionate about perfection, independence, and power—all things her father had used to drive her down his path of conquest.

'_But no more,'_ silently she reaffirmed her promise to not walk that path again. To do so would be the same as walking straight back to the boiling rock and locking the door of the cooler herself.

"If only you had come during the Winter Solstice," Shyu mused, "Avatar Roku would surely have a solution to your problem."

Mat sat up straighter. "Wait, the spirit? Did Aang fix Roku's statue?"

Shyu nodded. "I myself have spoken to Roku twice since the war's end. He is very inspiring."

"And you're saying the statue activates when sunlight hits its eyes, right?"

"…I never said that. How did you know that was what summoned Roku's spirit?"

"Matthias." Azula looked at him with an arched eyebrow. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I have to get you an audience with Roku, despite how much I'm not gonna like it." Mat stood from the table, his jaw tight. "Shyu it's what, a little after high noon?"

"Less than an hour past." Shyu stood as well. "What are you planning, Master Phoenix?"

"No time to explain—just get some other sages and meet us at the temple doors. Princess, come on." Mat strode from the table towards the main stairway, Azula and Fenghuang close behind.

"Let's hurry up and do this 'errand' before I change my mind. Man, I am _so_ getting in trouble for this."

…………

Mat leaned against the door to Roku's sanctuary, working fiery plasma through his hands. His movements were followed by the eyes of Fenghuang and Azula, both opting to watch silently as he sculpted. To Azula it was obvious Mat was nervous; he was muttering to himself and working the plasma roughly, without any real object in mind. Azula had to admit she was curious—never before had Mat been anything but completely sure of himself. This sudden apprehension was… assuring.

Sighing, she flipped her bangs from her face and caught his eyes with her own. "Alright, what's bothering you?"

He broke the gaze, pretending to focus on what his hands were doing. "I'm not allowed to tell you."

"Well then, what you planning on doing?"

"I'm not allowed to tell you."

"Let me guess then." Azula leaned against one of the dragon-encircled pillars outside of Roku's chamber and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "You've figured out a way to get me in contact with Roku."

"Yes."

"And you're worried because it's no longer noon, and you need the sun at full or near full strength for whatever it is you have planned."

"More or less."

"But for some reason, you're not looking forward to doing whatever it is you're going to do."

"Pretty much hitting the nail on the head here, Princess."

"Then why are you so nervous? You're always looking for ways to show off your powers. What makes this any different?"

Mat crushed his latest random shape within his fist and looked at her. "I'm not allowed to tell you," He repeated.

Azula glared at him. "Well maybe I don't really feel like talking to Avatar Roku right now."

"Princess, come on." Mat wore an almost pained expression on his face. "I know I'm being evasive—"

Fenghuang made a noise that was surprisingly like a snort. Mat shot the bird a look before turning to Azula.

"But you know I work under different rules. There are certain things I'm not supposed to do. I'm not supposed to change the natural order of things, or do anything but support and guide. I'm not supposed to take an active role in events."

"Well that little credo went up in smoke the day you set my father on fire."

"I know! I know." Mat worked the plasma again. "But this is different. What I did to Ozai was bad, but at least I did it myself, under my own power. This though…What I have to do in order to connect you to Roku… I'm going to need to use someone else's…my Master's… power."

"Ahh," Azula understood, "So not only are you breaking some very important rules, but you're stealing from a very important, and I assume powerful, person in order to do it? Why Mat, I'm flattered you'd go through such lengths for me."

"If Roku hadn't told Aang I had too, I wouldn't even be thinking about it," Mat grumbled.

"Your Highness. Master Phoenix." Shyu strode down the hallway, four sages in tow—three men and a woman. "Allow me to introduce Sages Azar, Zutan, Hotaru, and Shula. They have helped me rebuild the order since the war's end and—"

"Yeah that's great," Mat cut in, "Sorry, but we need to skip past the pleasantries and open that door, pronto."

"Of course, Master Phoenix. Time is apparently of the essence." Shyu motioned for the other sages to take position on either side of him. "But couldn't you have opened the chamber door yourself? Surely you can channel five flames at once."

"He already tried, before you got here." Azula pushed herself off the pillar she was leaning against. "It was pretty entertaining, actually."

"A firebender's fire is different than mine. You guys use chi or something to firebend, don't you?" Mat smashed the fireball between his palms, banishing the plasma to whence it came. "I dunno…the door probably requires a mix of both heat and chi to open or something."

Shyu nodded, and as one the sages fired upon the five-dragon seal that locked the door. Slowly the metal serpents uncoiled, and the door's heavy iron tumblers unwound. Before the embers had even died Mat was at tugging at the door, followed closely by Azula.

"Tradition holds that only one person enter the sanctuary." Azar spoke solemnly.

"I'm really not big on tradition." Mat shot back as he and Azula swung the double-doors wide, revealing the sparse temple inside. "And I'm sort of breaking with my biggest one here, so you'll have to forgive me if I break one of yours."

Shyu smiled, and following, led his sages behind the Princess and the Phoenix. "Well if tradition is to be broken, it might as well be broken right. We will all enter."

The temple had been recreated in near exactness—a stone floor with a solar calendar lay in the center of the chamber. The ceiling was vaulted and the walls were staggeringly tall, decorated only by red silk curtains, with no windows or torch sconces to be found. No furniture either, excepting the small three-step alter that housed Roku's effigy in front of five increasingly large flames, wrought of gold. The chamber was imposing in its bareness, splendid in its simplicity, and cast entirely in a ruby-red light. Azula was immediately attracted to the effigy while Mat concentrated on the stylized Sun opposite it and above the door—through which the only source of sunlight came into the room after first passing through a red sunstone.

Using two bursts of flame from his palms, Mat launched himself up and grabbed onto the windowsill. "Good." He pressed his face against the stone, looking through the ruby rock and outside the temple. "The Sun's still pretty high in the sky."

"But it's in the wrong position." Shyu observed, "The Sunlight won't come anywhere near the window."

"Only at Sunset does the sunstone catch the light correctly, projecting a beam of light," Hotaru intoned.

"And only on the Winter Solstice does that beam of sunlight reach the statue's eyes," concluded Zutan.

Mat held onto the windowsill with one hand, and with his free hand struck a short but extremely hot flame with a crisp snap. "That's why I'm here. I'm gonna move the sunlight to hit the statue dead on." Carefully, he melted through the stone that surrounded the ruby.

Hotaru looked shocked. "You're going to move the Sun?"

Mat worked the gem free of the stone wall before tossing it down to the stuttering fire sage. "Nothing drastic like that. I'm going to use my body as a focal-point—collecting the ambient sunlight and directing it where we want it to go." He dropped down onto the floor, his brow furrowed as the room filled with natural sunlight. "I'll direct the sunlight into a concentrated beam, then one of you will use the ruby to hit the statue's eyes."

"An interesting idea. You'll be acting as a giant mirror, directing the sunlight towards its intended target." Zutan stroked his long beard. "But will Avatar Roku be fooled by such a trick? Will he indeed appear?"

"Aang met with him and some other previous lives a couple of weeks ago—this whole crazy thing is the Fire Avatar's idea. Roku wants to talk to her." Mat looked at Azula. "He just needs an excuse to do it."

"Well then?" Azula asked, "Are you going to stand their stalling or get on with it?"

"I'm still not sure I want too." Mat motioned to the Sages. "You guys might want to step back a bit; I have to use a continuous burn to keep myself suspended in the right spot."

As the male Sages moved to the four corners of the room, Shula stood with Azula at the room's center, sunstone in hand.

"Be ready for when the light hits the statue's eyes—that's when Roku will take you to the spirit world. He will speak with you there about your firebending, and we will guard your body with our lives. Don't be afraid, your physical self will remain safely where you left it.

"I'm not afraid."

The woman smiled. "Of course you aren't, Your Highness."

Meanwhile Mat had his head bowed, muttering beneath his breath.

"O Shooter from afar, I beseech thee.

Belenos Eleison —I had no choice.

Apollo phylassou—do not harm me

Anerriphthō kybos—I hadn't voice.

Grant me Gnosis, the power you collect.

To maintain the source this task must be done.

My Sophya lacks, so this world shall be wreck'd

Bestow power proud Phoebus, to steal light from this sun.

As supplicant and servant I appear.

As Musagetes I invoke our compact.

As sunlight shines brilliantly without fear,

Matthias will keep Mimema intact.

And should you fail to make this exception,

A Princess shall lose her chance at redemption."

He stood and looked up. "Ok, that should do it. Now to say it so he'll hear." Mat locked his elbows at his sides while raking his thumbs across his fingers. Sparks caught and flames burst to life beneath his palms, steadily raising him into the air.

"_O Εκατο, Ι βεσεεχ θεε._

_Βελενοσ __ελέησον—__Ι __ἁ__δ νο χοικε._

_Απολλον __φυλάσσου—__ δο νοτ __ἁ__ρμ με_

_Ἀ__νερρίφθω κύβος__—__Ι __ἁ__δν'τ υοικε.__"_

In addition to the bizarre language, Mat's voice took on an otherworldly timbre—almost like the duel voice she had heard in Ozai's cell. This time however, the power-hungry animosity from before was absent. In its place flowed a steely certainty, an unyielding resolve. Azula could tell that this was one time for Mat where ego didn't enter into the equation—for once, he was all business.

"_Γραντ με Σοφια, τ__ἑ__ ποωερ θατ ωας υουρσ__._

_Το μιαινταιν τ__ἑ__ σουρκε θις τασκ μυστ βε δονε._

_Μυ γν__ὼ__σις ις λακκινγ, το φαιλ τ__ἑ__ χορεσ_

_Βεστοω ποωερπρουδ Φοίβος, το στεαλ φρομ θις συν__.__"_

Matthias' head paralleled the hole in the wall that had once held the large Gemstone. The stylized sun formed a halo around his face, the reds of its decorative paint blending in and disappearing behind his hair. The room became considerably darker, what light left coming from the jets of flame beneath his palms.

"_Ας ικετις ανδ σερυαντ Ι αππεαρ._

_Ας Μουσηγετης Ι ινυοκε ουρ κομπακτ._

_Ας συνλιγτ σ__ἱ__νες βριλλιαντλυ ωιθουτ φεαρ,_

_Ματθιας ωιλλ κεεπ Μιμεμα ιντακτ."_

Slowly, a soft glow appeared from somewhere within Mat's forehead. Light pulsed and raced beneath his skin, a thousand tiny fireflies searching and straining for a way out. As he gained luminosity his voice grew louder, every syllable of the strange language striking Azula somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach.

"Ανδ σὁυλδ υου φαιλ το μακε τἱς εξκεπτιον

_Α Πρινκεσς σἁλλ λοσε ἑρ χανκε ατ ρεδπεμτιον__.__"_

Mat opened his eyes and the collected sunlight shot forward, twin beams of the purest white light. His eyes locked onto Roku's, and between them Shula held aloft the ruby. The light changed from white to red, and the statue's eyes grew to glow as well. Azula turned to face the statue, and as her gaze met its own she felt a pull, like someone was tugging loose a frayed edge of her soul. She felt herself begin to move, though her body stayed still. It defied all logic, all thought, and she couldn't control herself—Azula was suddenly at a spirit's mercy, and she because of that she was afraid.

Then the world turned black.

…\/…\/…\/…

Alright! So this chapter seems a tad short to me, but I look at the normal length of most fanfictions, and I figure it's on the money for "average."

Coupla things you're probably wondering about-- Sophya (Σoφíα, Greek for "wisdom") refers to the power Mat has gained himself—his psionic powers. **Gnosis** (from one of the Greek words for knowledge, γνώσις) is traditionally defined as the spiritual knowledge of a saint or mystically enlightened human being. In my story, it is the power granted to gods (along with those working for them, lol.) through their collection and use of Mimema.

Alright, that's it. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and check back Friday for more avatar-y goodness. Flameo, Hotmen!!


	22. Of Spirits and Speeches

The Avatar Saga—Azula's redemption  
_**Chapter 21: Of Spirits and Speeches**_  
By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: come on, we know the drill—I own what I do, and don't what I don't.

"_Enough darkened thoughts. It is time you began your training."_

"Yeah…I'm still not too sure about—"

"_Every Musagetes has trained for his tenure differently. Some became healers, some heros. Some sought the path of a scoundrel, and some modeled themselves after the soldiers of my Age—the honorable __hoplitai. Fiction is an eclectic realm, Matthias. Choose a training ground that will give you power to suit any occasion."_

"Wait. So you're saying I get to pick any story, any fictional world I want, and then get trained in it?"

"_Your Uncle Maximos trained with the Rangers and Elves of Middle Earth. He forged a great bond with the King of Men there, and became blood brothers with Faramir Son of Denethor, Captain of the White Tower. He became known as the Radiant Bow by the Elves, or __Alata__Cú."_

"So I can go anywhere?"

"_Already so eager to leave us here at Delphi, __Kouros? Very well then. Speak a fiction of your choosing."_

"…Ever played Dungeons and Dragons, Old Man?"

…\/…\/…\/…

Azula opened her eyes, though they were not her eyes. Above her was a small window, scantly larger than the porthole on a Fire Nation warship, and through that window she saw a great darkness, infinite in its depth and unyielding in its blackness. Peering for a better view she leaned her head forward, though it was not her head. She looked closer, trying to find some speck of life, some light in the endless void, but she could not. There was only the unending abyss, filled with a raging, sorrowful song, sung by a quartet of scorned and abused elements.

"It's good to see you, Azula. What took you so long?"

A voice brought her back to reality—or at least this plane of it—and she spun on her heel, in the body that wasn't her body. Azula found herself inside Roku's chamber, at the same time both comfortably small and impossibly large. Behind the man whose voice had jarred her, she saw that the ornamental gold flames had sprung to life only to throw shadows against the towering walls that surrounded them. Further behind the flames something…large… was rousing itself, and the dry scraping sounds of scales rubbing together echoed against the temple stone before fading upwards, into the expansive mural of suns, dragons, and firebenders that decorated the ceiling above Azula's head.

"Avatar Roku," she breathed.

The man before the giant flames scoffed, the authoritative tone in his voice marred only slightly by the mirth that tinged his saffron-colored eyes.

"So you still haven't learned to bow and give proper respect to your elders—even when they're family."

"We're related?" Azula found herself genuinely surprised—a rare event indeed. "How is that possible?"

"We are short on time. I could waste what little we have telling you." Roku motioned with his hand, and a shape swiftly formed from the dimness behind the impossibly large tongues of flame. Soon the great head of Fang the dragon rose to face her, his tooth-filled maw open and inches from her face. Strangely, she held no fear of the beast despite it being the first live—or dead, depending upon one's perspective—dragon she'd ever seen.

"Much better if I simply show you." Roku signaled, and one of Fang's whiskers touched her forehead, filling Azula's mind with visions of the past.

Within a handful of heartbeats Azula knew the true history of Roku's life. She knew that he wasn't the cowardly Avatar Sozin and his descendents had led the nation to believe, but rather a friend and confidante to the Fire Lord who had put the needs of the world above the twisted desires of a man he once called Brother.

More importantly however, she knew that Roku once had a wife and child. She knew that this child gave rise to another child, a girl whose name was Ursa. A girl whose heritage was hidden from the world for fear of attacks on her family. A girl who grew up knowing a secret, but was never able to speak of it to a living soul—not to her closest friends, and especially not to the man she was meant to marry.

Before she could see more of her mother's life Fang withdrew his whisker. Azula started and gasped, as if waking suddenly from a vivid dream. Her eyes focused on the former Avatar, and she found herself at a loss for words. Due to the method it was revealed to her, she had no trouble accepting what she had seen as truth. Coming to terms with such a wealth of undeniable truths however was another matter entirely. This was a revelation the likes of which Azula had never experienced before. Not once had she given thought to Ursa's side of the family. Azula had just always assumed her mother was born from a brood of weak, merciful fools, and that her one success in life was finding favor with the younger son of Azulon. Now she knew that not only was her mother's heritage—her heritage—filled with powerful firebenders, but also carried a capacity for great good, just as her father's line carried an equal capacity for evil.

When Azula finally spoke, her voice was catchy and choked—a child's first words in a new and abruptly uncertain world.

"Ro…Roku…"

The old man smiled. "For simplicity's sake my dear, why don't you call me Grandfather?"

Before she knew it he was embracing her, the folds of his robe blanketing her in warmth, the feel of his beard against her face instantly, yet strangely, comfortable. It felt… right. And the fact it all felt so right felt wrong, which only served to confuse Azula more.

"Grand…father?"

He stepped away from her, wiping moisture from his eyes with a corner of a black-trimmed sleeve. The mirth that tinted his eyes had spread to his mouth, and he smiled. "I have waited far too long for that. No man should die without getting the opportunity to embrace at least one of his descendents."

Roku bent a stone chair out of the floor. He sat heavily, twisting his ankle as he did so and summoning another chair for Azula to sit in as well. "Now Azula, we may talk."

She took the seat. It was surreal, speaking so easily to a dead ancestor a few moments ago she didn't even know she had. Somewhere in the back her mind, a voice told Azula that she should be ranting, raving, and lighting things on fire. But despite whatever misgivings the old Azula had, the new Azula was strangely at ease, though understandably cautious.

Roku's face sobered slightly as he noted her confused expression. "You're wondering why this is all so easy to accept—why you entered into my embrace, rather than leaping immediately to ring my neck and avenge your other great-grandfather's memory."

Azula nodded. She could sense something was different about this place… Perhaps it was simply standing in Roku's presence, but something was surely changing her.

"You will find that everything carries within it two types of energy. Ying and Yang, light and dark, positive and…negative. More so than the physical realm, these energies flow through all aspects of this world. The walls of this chamber, the heat of this fire, even the very fiber of your spirit are left affected. What energies you are filled with and influenced by depends upon where in the Spirit World you stand."

Roku turned to face the towering fire, and Azula did likewise. The flames flickered and flattened, shimmering forth a tableau of shapes and images, providing a visual accompaniment to Roku's explanations. "In the darkest pits of Koh's layer there is nothing but Ying. Shadows, doubt, deceit and mistrust rule there. It is what makes Koh the face-stealer he is. For thousands of years he has refused to leave his home and seek the Yang. It leaves him warped and twisted; an imbalanced spirit desiring the faces of others, trying to fill the hunger only the positive Yang can satiate."

The flames curled inwards on themselves, crushing the portrait of a centipedal spirit and releasing a montage of images with the flaring sparks that floated upwards to scrape the painted ceiling.

"The Spirit Oasis, the Catacombs of Old Ba Sing Se, the Air temple's inner sanctums, and this chamber are all focal points of Yang. That is why you feel as you do, Azula. The positive energies of Yang allow you to open your mind to the possibilities before you."

Azula frowned slightly. This implication wasn't something she'd counted on. "So I'm being controlled then? Changed into someone I'm not?"

"Ying and Yang cannot truly change anyone, be they man, woman, or spirit. The energies in this realm can only bring about what is already inside you—your potential for peace and tranquility are realized while you remain here. Nothing you are feeling is manufactured, that I promise."

Azula fell silent, deep in thought. So this was what peace felt like…no thirst for power or acceptance, no fear of being controlled or concerted into actions she might rather deny.

Her face grew a sardonic smile. "Funny. I thought peace and tranquility would feel…happier."

Roku chuckled. "As I am a spirit of balance, what you are feeling now is not the utmost of Yang's potential. My presence is affecting the flow of energies, allowing you to tread a path between the northern and southern slopes. In simplest terms…by sitting near me, or any other Avatar Spirit for that matter, you find balance between your positive and negative energies."

Azula closed her eyes and breathed, noting how strange the air—or lack of it—felt to her lungs. "Where were you when I was learning to bend lightning? This sort of balance would have made the process so much easier."

"I'll keep that in mind the next time a descendent of mine attempts to learn the cold-blooded fire," Roku murmured, that soft smile never straying as he spoke.

The two sat for a time with Fang coiled around them, watching the great tongues of flame burn and glow. They didn't speak, and contented themselves to relax for a moment, simply learning to enjoy the other's company.

Eventually, Azula spoke, "So am I to assume that there is more of the Spirit World beyond that window?"

"What precious little that is left lies beyond our sight." Roku sighed, "Never before has such evil been so prevalent among all four of the elements. The result of this evil is what you see outside that window. The other Avatar Spirits and I held together for as long as we could, but eventually we decided it best to return to our sanctuaries and temples, guarding their light against this crushing abyss."

"This growing darkness," Azula said slowly, "What can I do about it?"

Roku smiled. "You're so eager now to help those around you? Are you truly prepared to risk your life for those you have not and most likely will never meet?"

"…I'm not sure. But someone has too."

"That's what Aang is for, along with your brother."

Azula sat back in her chair, thinking as she ran her hands through her bangs. It was true—this wasn't really her fight. Sure Zuko needed her, and sure she was the only one able to go looking for Mother, but did she really want to?

With a deep breath, she made her choice. "Well if it's half as bad as you make it out to be, then the Avatar and Zuzu are going to need all the help they can get."

"How easily she dons the hero's mantle, eh Fang?" Roku mused to his dragon, who rumbled deeply in reply. "You're right Granddaughter, they do need you. You are the final push that will move the pendulum back and banish this unnatural darkness from both our realms."

"No offence Grandfather," Azula paused, realizing this was the first time she could remember where she actually meant 'no offence' as an honest request, and not as a mere formality of speech. "But I don't think I'll be able to do much without my firebending."

Roku leaned forward, as if imparting a great secret. "Here is what you need to know." His eyes shimmered in the firelight. "Shyu said that you need both determination and passion to direct and fuel your inner fire. He also said that while you lack passion, you possess determination in spades. Well, the man is half right and half wrong."

Fang grumbled and laid his enormous head in Azula's lap. Like everything that had happened since she arrived, this would have normally provoked a reaction—most likely a violent one. But instead of thinking about how this was the first dragon she had ever seen, or how it belonged to a man she had been taught to hate, Azula unconsciously laid a hand upon the animal's head and listened to her great-grandfather speak.

"It is true you have great determination, but it is old and malformed—it's the determination you held during the war…The determination to be the best, to stand alone and proud above all others. To be independent from your father, your brother, or anyone else who might hold power over you. As long as you hold onto this old train of thought, even a little, you will never firebend again."

Roku stroked his beard, his voice deep and resonant. Azula thought it came almost as much from the walls of the temple as from the spirit himself. "Azula, you must completely reinvent yourself. You must find first a new passion, then develop the new determination and iron will to channel that passion into flame."

Azula sighed despondently, "And here I was hoping you could just give me some sort of potion or magic spell and I would be cured."

"You're well on your way already." Roku smiled. "You have shown the desire to change, and that is half the battle. It seems the few days you've spent in the company of the outsider have helped you more than five years in that horrid prison ever did."

Fang opened one slitted eye and growled at the mention of the Boiling Rock, mirroring Roku's feelings on the subject. "Your brother has done much to restore his honor, but his treatment of you after the war was not something I approved of."

"Well, it's done and gone now." Azula surprised herself again by actually meaning what she said. Maybe being balanced and calm carried some perks after all; this constant and unconscious honesty was… refreshing. "There's no point in dwelling on it—re-hashing bad memories will only lead me down a path I don't want to walk again."

"Be wary Azula," the spirit grew grim, "Bad memories are not easily erased, be them made in a prison cell or a palace bedchamber. You'll have to face those memories at some point before your redemption is complete."

Roku's grim face softened—it seemed to Azula that he quickly grew tired of keeping such a cold face for any length of time. "But the outsider will be there for you, he'll help you through the worst of it."

"Mat's brand of help normally involves either annoying remarks or an invasion of my personal space. Or both," Azula huffed, pulling her fingers through one of her bangs. "Let's hope I don't need any help at all."

Roku laughed the grizzled, mirthful laugh one would expect from such a man. His laughter cut short however, and he looked beyond the chamber's window as if sensing something. "You will need his help soon enough, Granddaughter. My island is about to be attacked."

Fang's head rose with his master's, and Azula took the opportunity to stand. Her calm left her no room for fear or anger, only clear-headedness and a highly tactical mind.

"Who's attacking? How many men do they have, and when will they arrive?"

"I can only say for certain that they will arrive at nightfall. I wish I had the opportunity to sense more, but remember I said your time here was to be short." Roku rose and made his way to stand before the flames, sensing the blackness outside pulse and swirl like the front of a particularly brutal storm. "But you have your answers, and I trust you'll find your way well enough."

Azula spoke cautiously, as if she didn't trust her own words. "Will I… see you again?"

Roku looked at her over his shoulder. "Now that we have connected, I should be able to reach you while you dream…if that's what you want, of course."

"I…I think it is."

Roku turned to face Azula fully. Behind him, the flames began to slow and solidify, the living red and orange shifting into a static amber and gold. Fang slunk back into the darkness with a rustle of scales. "Then it shall be so. Goodbye for now, Granddaughter of mine. Tell your brother he is to give the young one a father's attention; he should know what you mean."

Azula bowed. "I will… Grandfather."

…………………………….

Light in the Real World seemed brighter and harsher to the eyes than in Roku's Spirit Temple. The air was thicker too, more tangible. As Azula blinked and shook her head she felt the pull of atmosphere against her face, and the dry heat of the chamber's air filled her lungs when she drew breath. She watched as the light faded from her ancestor's eyes, leaving behind the dull red of sandstone he was hewn from. Turning, she saw Mat still suspended against the window—he blinked and the light escaped his eyes as well. His head drooped from fatigue and he lessened his flames, trying to reach the ground in a gentle fashion. Still only halfway down his power gave out, and he was too tired to try and stop his fall. Mat tumbled to the ground, coming to an abrupt crumple where floor met wall.

Azula moved to him without thinking.

"Spirits, what were you still doing up there?"

"And a fine hello to you too, Princess." Mat sat up with Azula's help and leaned heavily against the wall, groaning. "Shyu said the connection only lasted as long as the light kept on Roku's eyes. So up there I stayed until you came out of it on your own."

The Sages brought forth torches from outside the room. Shyu handed one to Mat, who took it gratefully and drew heat from it slowly, so as not to kill the flame. "That's why I never do continuous burns to travel—always too much energy wasted."

"Well hopefully this time it wasn't a waste." Shula turned to Azula, searching the princess's eyes with her own. "Did Avatar Roku reveal how to reclaim your bending?"

Azula nodded. "That and more. There's going to be an attack on the island."

"What?" Azar's eyes widened. "When?"

"Tonight. We need to prepare for the worst."

"Alright." Mat clapped his hands and moved somewhat unsteadily to his feet. "A good honest-to-god fight is just the distraction I need. Do we have time to make a stop at the volcano, or should I just run to the kitchen for a little heat snack instead?"

"The kitchen fires are probably a safer bet. We need to—"

"_Κουρος, ω__ἁ__τ __ἁ__υε υου δονε? Υου αρε α θιεφ ανδ α λιαρ!"_

The color drained from Mat's face. "…Oh shit."

The Sages' torches flared, their flames suddenly extending and turning a brilliant white at their tips. The ambient sunlight that streamed in from the open window narrowed into a single beam, striking the center of the room's floor at the heart of the solar calendar. The white torch-flames bent, streaming forth from their sources and twisting as if alive, coiling around the shaft of sunlight and disappearing along with it into the stone floor. White light burrowed and disappeared beneath the calendar, until the shaft widened again into nothingness, and the torches sputtered into nothing more than smoking stubs.

For a beat there was a shocked silence that hung heavily in the air, like a paralyzing gas that restrained anyone from producing the slightest movement or sound. Then, from the center of the solar calendar, all the collected light reappeared. Out of a crack between two stones, it emerged like a seed bursting forth from the soil. Bands of pure white light, so bright they almost stung the eye, weaved and curled around each other, slowly growing and gaining volume.

"What is that?" Shyu exclaimed, finally free of the self-induced, awed stupor he had fallen prey to.

"That," Matt said grimly. "Is the Source."

"_Υου __ἁ__υε στολεν φρομ με Κουρος. Ανδ Ι δεμανδ υου παυ τ__ἑ__ πρικε φορ συχ τρεαχερυ!"_

A voice sprung forth from the light, powerful and commanding. It carried through its strange words a resonance the likes of which none in the room had ever heard.

Save one.

"And that," Mat muttered despondently, "is my Master."

"_Κουρος!" _The voice was harsh, and left no room for discussion._ "Ρετυρν το Δελφί ατ ονκε."_

"What?" Mat's eyes widened in surprise. "No way, I can't leave now. They need me—the villains are about to invade and—"

"_**ΚΟΥΡΟΣ. Ρετυρν νοω!"**_

"Can't you just wait until I help them?"

"_**Υου **__**ἁ**__**υε στολεν ανδ μυστ φακε με. νοω ις νοτ τιμε το ασχ—"**_

Mat cut off the voice. "I'm not asking I'm τελλινγ υου θατ τἑσε πεοπλε ωιλλ διε ιφ Ι λεαυε νοω…."

Azula blinked as she watched Mat argue with the being beyond the flowing coils of light. Slipping into the same language the disembodied voice used, Mat gestured and shouted, pleaded and begged. Soon Azula didn't need to understand what they were saying to realize he was losing the argument.

After a few more heated, foreign words, Mat turned his back on the swirling beams, breathing deeply and clenching his fists. Azula could almost hear him counting silently to ten. When he raised his eyes to meet with hers, she could see his frustration. Without turning from her gaze, he addressed the Sages.

"I have to go."

"Go where? What's happening?" Zutan sounded frantic, "We don't have the strength to defend ourselves without you. You can't abandon us!"

Mat gave a weak half-grin to Azula. "I told you this little trip of yours was going to cost me."

She crossed her arms. "So you're leaving right now?" she spoke coolly.

"I'm sorry. Believe me, this isn't my choice. I'll try to calm him down and get back—"

"_**ΚΟΥΡΟΣ, ρετυρν το Δελφί ΝΟΩ!"**_

"Spirits, κεεπ υουρ χιτών ον, Ι ρετυρν σοον!"

With one last glance at Azula, Mat turned to the light. He walked towards the tendrils of illumination, 'The Source' he had called it. Its beams bent and curved around him, engulfing his body as he stepped through—towards what no one present could tell.

"I'll be back soon. I'm sorry."

And then he was gone.

Azula watched the bright beams shrink and fold in on themselves. Like tangible, solid vines, they retreated into the ground and disappeared, leaving only a few motes of light floating up to the ceiling as evidence they had ever appeared at all.

She suppressed a shiver—a chill raced up her spine, as if a blanket had slipped off her body while she was asleep. Azula turned on her heel and strode out of the chamber, not once looking back. She collected Fenghuang as she went, the Sages following close behind her. Without turning to address them directly, Azula did what she had always done best. She took charge.

"Shula, please send someone to my room and bring me my sword. Azar, have everyone else assemble in the biggest room you have as quickly as you can. Master Shyu, please take me there."

"Sage Zutan is right your majesty." Shyu said as he sent the two Sages on their way. "We five are the only Master Sages here. The rest are scattered among the Nation teaching. Everyone else on this island is either a Junior Sage or an Apprentice; most are too young to enlist in the army."

"We'll have to make due. The island can't fall into enemy hands—this is just the beachhead they'd need to invade the nation proper." In the distance, Azula heard the temple bell sounding the alarm.

Hotaru called over his shoulder as he turned to climb a flight of stairs. "I will send all the messenger hawks we have asking for aid. Hopefully a Navy ship will be close by."

"Hopefully," Azula called back. Once he was gone she continued to Shyu, "But we can't wait for support. The enemy is expecting to surprise us; they think we don't know they're coming. We can use that to surprise them instead."

Shyu smiled grimly. "At least the full moon's light will help us see who we're fighting."

Realization dawned on her, and Azula glanced at Shyu, who met her gaze with an almost exact expression of grim imaginings she herself wore. The same silent thought moved through both their minds; an attack beneath a full moon could only mean one thing—some, if not all of the invaders had to be Waterbenders. They quickened their pace.

Azula paused outside the doors to the main dining hall—apparently this was the largest room in the temple. Voices on the other side filtered through to her, muffled slightly by the thick wood and metal. She lifted Fenghuang off her shoulder and carried her to a window.

"Fenghuang, I want you to go the volcano." She stared intently into the bird's eyes, unspoken orders passing from master to animal. "Do you know what to do?"

The phoenix bobbed its head and chirped.

"Then fly. I'll signal you when it's time." Azula opened the window and Fenghuang took flight, the bird's natural luminosity making it easy to follow as it soared up to the volcano's dome.

"Your Highness, do you know what you'll say?"

Azula glanced at Shyu, surprised. "Me? Why should I have to talk to your Sages and Apprentices?"

Shyu fell silent for a moment. For the first time since she'd arrived, Azula thought the man actually looked his age. His wrinkles deepened as he spoke, like canyons forming over the topography of his face.

"Your Highness, we are on the verge of a great battle. Tonight men and women, boys and girls, will inevitably die. They need more than orders and commands from an aged, familiar face; they need inspiration, vitality and life! You are Fire Nation Royalty, Azula. Your duty…no, your mandate, is to personify all that is great and honorable in our Nation. You must be the inspiration for the rest of us—the bravest, and strongest, and absolute best of us."

"You make it sound like I'm the one being ruled by you all, instead of the other way around."

Shyu sighed. It was the tired, worn sigh of a man who had lived through more than most could ever dream of. "That is the burden of every great leader—be they a lowly field commander on the battlefield or Royal Lord or Lady, issuing law from atop a great throne. Azula, before you enter that room, ask yourself this: are you ready to sacrifice everything, and I mean _everything_, to shoulder the weight of those souls beyond that door? That is what you'll be doing once the moon rises and we face whatever comes storming our beaches."

"If we let them, these volcanoes will shield our bodies." He gave her a small, reassuring smile. "But only you can shield our spirit, Your Highness."

Azula looked at him, her face unreadable. Slowly, she turned to face the great double-doors. She could hear the other Sages assembling inside, calling the younger men and women to order and quieting them down to receive her. She faced that door silently, as if committing its wooden grain to memory. Then, with a single deep breath, she opened the door and walked in, her head held high and her stride unshakable.

………………………………….

A hush raced through the hall as the large door opened. Like a growing wave the assembled faces turned, and around a hundred pairs of silent eyes fell upon two solitary figures as they crossed the threshold. One of the figures soon broke from the other, and quietly took the remaining unoccupied seat among the other Master Sages. The other figure continued on, without haste or hesitation, to the raised dais that stood like an executioners' block before the assembled masses.

Without any great preamble, Azula spoke.

"At sunset tonight, beneath the light of the full moon, we will be attacked. The enemy is large in number and most likely made up of rebels, anarchists and other assorted insurgents from all three nations. They will swarm the island, storm the temple, and most likely kill everyone who raises a hand against them."

If the room had been considered quiet before, it paled in comparison to the silence that now sprung forward. Azula's laconic opening statement acted as a vacuum—answering any question as to what was happening while leaving little room for contention in regards to future events. Several of the Sages looked at her with wide eyes—Zutan's mouth hung open like the trapdoor of a gallows. Only Shyu and Shula gazed at her with something other than pure shock.

Azula allowed the message some time to sink in. She let her eyes pass over and around the hall, up its high walls and to the vaulted ceiling where, oddly enough, a few scattered scorch marks could be easily seen. The ceiling was high—at least several stories tall—and at first she thought that the marks must have been made by one of the Master Sages. But after recalling what she had witnessed earlier today on the training grounds, it became clear that even an Apprentice studying under this new firebending philosophy had the potential of being more powerful than all but those known as Masters during her father's reign.

By now the room had recovered from her initial statement, if only slightly. With a deep breath, she continued, "I'm not saying this to frighten you. I'm merely removing all doubt about the severity of the situation. This island—your sanctuary—is both easily defensible and strategically located. Not only is this place a springboard into the heartland of our Nation for any invading force, but its central location in regards to the other countries gives any army who occupies it control over all major sea routes, as well as a perfect staging area for raids into the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes."

The faces before her shifted from shock to dejected hopelessness. From his seat, Shyu raised an eyebrow. Though it couldn't be seen, beneath her mask of dispassionate calm Azula was panicking—she knew this was the time to somehow turn this morbid rhetoric around, but the means to do so were lost to her. The Old Azula knew how to inspire fear, not bravery. She had driven the Dai Li forward by preying upon their insecurities, not by infusing them with courage.

Suppressing the desire to take another calming breath, she stalled for time by walking slowly from one end of the dais to another. It was a terribly short walk, and she soon found herself coming to a stop, still lacking the inspiration she so desperately sought. Sunlight spilt onto her from a high windowpane, warming her face and burning through some of the chill that had frosted her nerves.

The light filled her vision—overtaking the crowd before her—and when she spoke again, it overtook her as well.

"I don't know what to say, really. It's just a few hours...until the biggest battle of our lives. Either we face them tonight, together, or our Nation will burn island by island, village by village, until there's nothing left but ash. We're caught within in the dragon's fangs now, believe me, and we can stay here, passively accepting a death devoid of honor, or we can fight our way back into the light. We can climb our way out of those fangs…one flame at a time."

Azula paused. What she was about to say went against everything she'd ever been taught… but it was the truth. And like Roku had said—if she clung onto the past, she'd never regain control over her present. "Now I…I can't do it alone. I'm not strong enough. I look around at you all, and at what you can do with your passion, and your ideals, and your bending, and I think…I've made mistakes in my life. I…I've done things that were cruel and heartless, things that I paid for with five years of my life and my…my ability to firebend."

At this, the mass of faces before her began to whisper. She closed her eyes and focused on the warmth of the sunlight, waiting until she felt the room fall quiet again. After a time, she continued, "But everything I did, I did for this country. If there's one thing that I know won't change, no matter who sits on the throne, it's our patriotism—our pride, our passion, our commitment to this great Nation. I'll tell you this… In any battle, in any fight, it's the one who is willing to die that is going to live. And I know that if I'm going to have a chance at life, at any future at all, it is because I am still willing to fight and die for that future, because that's what living is... The fire that keeps you alive."

She opened her eyes, and let the sunlight blind her. "I can't make you fight, you're not in the army and I'm not your Master. But I promise you this… when the enemy storms this island's beach tonight I will not flinch. I will not flee or fly or turn my back to the enemy, even if I'm the only one there to face them. Not because I think I can win alone, but because there is literally no one else to stop them and because the very thought of meekly accepting a defeat of any kind sickens me worse than losing to my brother did those five years ago.

The whispers came again, louder this time. Azula waited again for them to die down, and while doing so surveyed the crowd. She could see just the beginnings of what might be admiration in some of their faces… She considered filling their ears with stirring frivolities about justice, honor, and a legacy of eternal glory should they fall, but decided against it. She'd stayed honest so far, and there wasn't any apparent reason to deviate from that path quite yet.

"Before speaking here, I was told by your leader how I'm supposed to act while we're fighting in defense of this island. I'm supposed to be a shining example of patriotism; I'm supposed to inspire, invigorate, and strengthen your spirits. Well I don't know if I can do that—I've never been interested in anyone but myself before. Rather, you should look around you for inspiration—into the faces of the men and women seated next to you. These are the people you'll be entrusting not only your life with, but the lives of your family, friends, and entire country. You must trust each other tonight, more than you've ever trusted another human being in your life. If you waver…if you flinch, or flee, or hold back even in the slightest, you'll not only be failing yourself and those you fight for, but everyone these people fight for as well."

Faces turned to look at each other now, and Azula could see determination kindle and catch flame within their eyes. They would rely on their peers, defending them with a tenacity born out of mutual respect and honor. There was no doubt any more—these Sages and Apprentices were ready to fight, bleed, and die for each other. Now they just needed someone to lead them into the thick of battle. Azula's eyes flicked to connect with Shyu's, but he answered her unspoken question with a soft simile and shake of his head…he was leaving it all up to her.

"I think there's a difference between ruling a nation and leading it. My father ordered his subjects around like tiles on a game board, imposing his will from a gilded throne ringed with fire, leaving his pawns with nothing but absolute, unthinking obedience. But from what I've seen of Zuko… he walks among the people, leading them by example, and working for their interests before his own. All my life I've followed one man's example, but tonight…"

All the eyes were on her again. The room itself seemed to expand slightly, as if holding its breath.

"I promise you that tonight I'll fight side by side with you, and we'll take on anyone who dares step foot on this island with the fire fueled by all we hold dear. We'll make them pay for every step, every charge, and every advance. Each breath they take on this island is an invasion of our land, and an affront to our Nation. No invading force has captured and held Fire Nation territory in the last hundred years…and I intend to keep that record perfect for at least as long as I live."

The crowd responded with a collective cheer. Her earlier statement showed true—one thing that will never change about the people of fire is their patriotism. Baring her teeth, Azula kept the feeling alive, "Every gesture made by the enemy will be met with our flames—flames that can never be extinguished because they're fueled by something greater than ourselves. I know those flames will never die because here on this island, with these Sages, you all have found the truth to firebending. And at this very moment I too can see that truth. I can see it kindling in your hearts, sparking in your eyes… I can see the strength of true firebending just by looking around the room…by looking at the scorch marks on the top of this great hall!"

Azula thrust her hand upwards to the ceiling, and the cheers turned into roars. One of the Apprentices sprang up on top of the table he was seated at, his passion louder than the rest. He met Azula's eyes without wavering, and his face was full of fire.

"I'll stand with you Your Highness. We won't let this temple go without a fight!" He thrust his fist upwards in imitation of Azula, but he added to the motion a huge burst of firebending that, true to form, extended all the way upwards to spray across the stone ceiling.

Azula's lips pressed into a thin smile as sparks swirled down from the ceiling like summer snowflakes. She recognized this Apprentice. "That's good to hear, Kwon. Tell me… are we going to toast them?"

Kwon met her thin smirk with a determined grin of his own. "Till they're golden brown, Your Highness."

"More like red and roasted!" another member of the crowd shouted. He too jumped atop one of the long tables and struck upwards, sending his ashen mark to rest with the others.

"No, we'll leave them blackened and burnt!" a Junior Sage joined in, this one a girl.

"Charred and crispy!"

"Grey and smoking!"

"Melted down to slag!"

The hall erupted. The crowd was feeding off of each other now; everywhere tongues of flame raced to see who would be first to kiss the now blackened ceiling. Heat broiled and rolled throughout the room, coating Azula with its energy. Through the dry air she heard her name being chanted, along with a plethora of other thunderous anthems. Satisfied her speech had the desired effect, Azula stepped off of the platform and walked to the head table, holding her head just as high as when she'd entered. The Master Sages rose to greet her.

"Well no matter what happens now, at least we'll go down fighting," Azar mused, throwing up his own heated mark.

Zutan's long beard did little to hide his fearsome expression. "With any luck, we won't go down at all." He too added his scorch to the growing collection.

"That was quite a speech, Your Highness." Shyu smiled warmly, seemingly unfazed by the furrows of flame springing up all around him. "I'll admit to some hesitancy when you first began, but overall it was magnificently eloquent."

"Now if only everyone else could express themselves with some of that same eloquence," Shula mock-complained, fanning herself with one hand even while she thrust a gout of fire upwards with the other. "Honestly Shyu, why didn't we think to open a window or two before calling this assembly?"

"I'm sure you'll manage somehow, Shula." Hotaru smiled. His face sobered however when he turned to face Azula. "Powerful rhetoric aside, we are still faced with insurmountable odds. I hope you have a plan, Your Highness."

Azula's smile was almost predatory. "I wouldn't have agreed to fight if I didn't."

Hotaru nodded. "Well then, let's get to work. What do you require?"

"I once read a highly classified report from former Admiral Zhao about this island. He wrote about a tunnel network of sorts…We'll start there."

The afternoon raced by in a veritable firestorm of activity. Azula directed her troops from a balcony atop the temple, watching with a critical eye as cauldrons were dragged outside and filled with oil before being hoisted to various windows and ledges high atop the pagoda. Her eyes scanned dozens of maps charting the island's topography, memorizing the ink and charcoal lines until she could have walked every pass and path on the island blindfolded. Under her direction, anything large enough to crush a man was assembled on the training grounds and taken by teams of Apprentices to staging points around the island. The entire Order was broken into small, fast moving groups, and with Shyu's knowledge of the island's tunnel system at hand, Azula placed her squads at the choicest positions, always planning for every possible contingency.

All too soon, the sun's dominance of the sky began to waver, and the golden orb continued along its inevitable path towards the western horizon. Azula watched the setting sun, irritated by the nagging itch blooming at the back of her mind. She'd forgotten something.

Soon enough she remembered. Matthias still hadn't returned. The irritation at her…_companion's_? No, that wasn't the right word… her lips pressed into a thin, bemused line when the proper title for Matthias came to her. The irritation at her _servant's_ absence irked her, but she'd planned for the battle without taking him into account, so it made little difference now.

"_Still,"_ she thought, _"annoying as he is, the peasant would have made tonight easier." _

Her thoughts shifted to her own personal group of thirty firebenders—almost half of the Order's fighting force— as they appeared from the winding, lava-smoothed path she had sent them down. The men and women under her direct command spoke quietly to each other in excited, yet controlled, tones. They fell silent as she met them on the training grounds, and they bowed respectfully before the leader stepped forward to give his report.

"We passed out dinner just like you said. All the squads are in position, with their debris staged and ready. I gave the Masters your written instructions, and each one told me they'd be ready. Master Azar said verbatim, 'I'm too old for all this scrabbling around she's asking of me.' But I think he was joking."

"Let's hope so. Did the runners I sent to the volcano report in?"

"They said that your animal is progressing nicely, and they've laid the trails you asked for."

Azula nodded. "Good. Anything else?"

"Just that when one of them was at the top of the volcano, she saw a large fog on the eastern horizon." The Junior Sage paused, resting a finger to his chin. "Which is odd, since we don't normally get ocean-bound fogs during the summer. The air is too dry."

Azula set off from the training grounds, towards the eastern beach. Her troops fell in line behind her as they dogged and hopped over minute lava flows to reach their ambush point. The Junior Sage, her lieutenant had to trot to keep pace alongside her as she spoke, "That's the invasion. They'll make landfall on the eastern shore—just where I thought they would."

"Zola said the fog stretched from one end of the horizon to the other..." for the first time, her lieutenant sounded unsure.

"They're just spreading their ships out in order to appear larger," Azula knew her words sounded hollow, but she couldn't do anything about it. "It's a crude tactic, don't pay it mind. We'll stage ourselves in the cliffs as planned, and with any luck they won't even make it past the beach, and Azar won't have to scrabble around at all."

"Do you really think so, Your Highness?"

"Of course," the lie came easily from her lips as she led the soldiers—the Apprentices—the boys and girls just barely her own age, but who've yet to ever see anything remotely resembling live combat—over one last pass and into the narrow, winding shelter the eastern cliffs provided.

Before her, the full moon was rising.

_Here ends episode 8_

_Ας Διανα ρισες, σο Φοεβυς μυστ φαλλ..._

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